Once Upon A Tolly Time
by ourLIVESareHARDgetOVERit
Summary: FORMERLY "TAILING A RUNAWAY" all readers of Tailing A Runaway, this is the SAME STORY. EmmaTancred, JuliaPaton, OliviaFidelio, BillyOC, CharlieNaren
1. Cast Exam

**THE CAST EXAM**

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Emma Tolly sighed as she leafed morosely through her notebook.

Pages filled from top to bottom with beautifully neat handwriting greeted her eyes, but Emma paid her homework no attention. Her thoughts were sidling away, ever so slowly as the clock on the wall ticked endlessly. Emma's doodles and careless sketches occupied the margins, but she barely gave these black-and-white illustrations a second glance. Her eyes were fixedly locked on the ceiling, her mind wandering to daydreams and wishes.

The bell, unbelievably loud and considerably unwelcome, startled Emma. She rose from her seat in unison with the other Art students.

Emma was a second-former of Bloor's Academy. She was _pretty_, sure enough. Emma's straight-ironed veil of thin, sleek strawberry-blond hair shone in the flickering torchlight, her eyes were bright, large and appealing, her figure shaped and curvy. Moreover, she would be thirteen in two months—the same age as a third-year student.

"Lysander?" The tall, African boy sauntered meters ahead, loping towards the King's Room with a confident, easy grace. He turned at the sound of his name, grinning broadly.

"Hi, Emma," he replied, wriggling his arms into the straps of his knapsack. "Have you seen Tanc?"

Tancred Torsson was Lysander Sage's best friend, and also a Child of the Red King. The selected twelve consisted of Charlie Bone, Gabriel Silk, Billy Raven, Asa Pike, Manfred Bloor, Inez and Idith: the Branko twins, Joshua Tilpin, Dorcas Loom, Lysander and Tancred, and Emma herself. Her closest pal, Olivia Vertigo, was an 'endowed-on-the-loose', as it had been Charlie's plan to hide her affinity from the Bloors. Emma glanced around quickly, shrugging apologetically. "No. Sorry. I haven't seen him, Sander."

The pair turned sharply into the hollow, drafty chamber known as the King's Room. Circular and high-ceilinged, the Children of the Red King occupied the compartment after dinner every single day.

"Silence in the King's Room." Manfred Bloor's deep, authoritative voice preceded him into the chamber. "Pencils down, eyes on me."

Obediently, various writing utensils were dropped from the busy hands of the endowed as their faces turned upward in curiosity. Manfred had never asked for such a show of attention. The matter must be one of utmost importance.

"The case in question is one of utmost importance," Manfred enunciated, mimicking Emma's thoughts. "My father, the Headmaster, insists you listen carefully. Time is of the essence."

The low, flat drawl didn't seem to stress the urgency, but the others didn't mind. With a sigh, Emma flashed a sidelong glance toward Charlie Bone. His brow was furrowed in concentration, suspicion and undivided interest—what else had she expected? Charlie was always on the lookout for trouble and signs of danger.

"The total of endowed children in the _world_ is unknown," Manfred stated, fiddling with his thumbs as he droned haplessly on. "But the total of endowed children in Bloor's is—"

"Twelve," Dorcas Loom chirped immediately. Manfred fixed Dorcas with a frosty glare before continuing.

"Yes, twelve." Manfred glowered down his nose at each student in turn. "Torsson, Sage—you remember the Cast Exam, don't you?"

Tancred and Lysander groaned. Emma couldn't suppress a tiny smile.

"The Cast Exam is a test taken by my great-grandsire, Mr Ezekiel Bloor. I have been told _not_ to go into full detail of the exam's requirements and actions, but surgeons and common medical tests are involved."

"Man—I mean, sir?" Joshua Tilpin raised his hand, smiling crookedly. Emma recoiled from his drawing stare, but Manfred returned the smile with a lopsided smirk.

"Yes, Tilpin?"

"Why is it—?"

"The Cast Exam?" Manfred's smirk widened. "Our Drama teacher, Mr Derivere, assured his students the exam would be safe and harmless. _Like an audition for a movie_—were his words. The name stuck, as you can see why."

"An audition?" Joshua made a face.

"Mr Ezekiel will explain," Manfred said, an unpleasant grin lengthening maliciously across his glowing face. "Bone and Branko are our first guinea pigs. Wish them luck, Children of the Red King!"

Glowering, Manfred exited triumphantly. Emma craned her neck, intent on her homework, but the tersely uncomfortable atmosphere that hovered above the endowed was impossible to miss.

At last, when it was far too much for Emma to bear, she dropped her pen and glared at Lysander. "Sander, what's this Cast Exam all about?"

Lysander shrugged. "They won't hurt you, Em. It's a check-up, basically."

"Manfred _did_ say medical tests were involved, but I was given the impression the Cast Exam wasn't physiological in the least."

Lysander nodded. "You weren't wrong. It's like an audition."

Emma pressed the older boys for additional information, but Lysander and Tancred refused to reveal any more than they already had. After Charlie and the twins had been examined, they did not return. Manfred revisited to inform the students that, "Mr Ezekiel will send you straight to your dormitory afterward, so don't forget your books."

Loom and Raven were next. Billy Raven, frightful and fidgety, tripped along with the malevolently intimidating Dorcas. Emma gave Billy a final, sympathetic glance before refocusing on her homework.

"Alright," Manfred announced, ten minutes following, "We'll send Silk, Tilpin and Tolly next. Asa snorted as Emma passed, but she chose to ignore the beast-boy and bravely marched through the corridors alongside the perpetually grinning Joshua and the droopy, paranoid Gabriel.

They had arrived, following Manfred's basic directions, at an old, scratched wooden door. Emma was afraid her knuckles would catch splinters, but she rapped the bristly surface with courage.

"Enter."

Gabriel swung open the door, and the trio tumbled through into the tiny, overheated room. Sweating instantly, Emma wiped her palm across her cheeks to cool her face. She was seated in seconds, and determined to maintain a straight face.

"Hello, children." Dr Bloor indicated his grandfather, Ezekiel, bent and twisted in the confines of the wheelchair. "Meet my grandfather, whom you will address simply as Mr Bloor.

"You are all here for an identical purpose. Endowed children have the capacity to learn and develop new affinities, and are capable of juggling more than one endowment, though it is rare and nearly unheard of. As you all know, Yolanda Yewbeam was able to shift her appearance and hypnotize others simultaneously. A perfect example.

"Manfred, my son, developed a new ability as well. He could no longer erase memories, but he can still inflict major damage upon a vulnerable mind with his eyes. An incredibly selected few of the Red King's descendants have inherited this double-talent blessing, but it is most likely that once you've discovered a new endowment, your previous ability fades.

"The Cast Exam will be able to recognize whether or not you have changed. Now, children, please step up to the dais, and we shall begin."

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Emma shuddered as she headed for the dining hall.

"Thanks, Cook," she mumbled, as she hurried for the far table with her full tray. She slid onto the bench, to the left of Fidelio Gunn. In a low voice, Emma explained the Cast Exam in full detail. Fido gobbled his potatoes throughout the account, listening with rapt attention.

"That's awful," he remarked, as he shoveled a final spoonful of onion-and-leek stew into his mouth. "Ouch, that's spicy."

"Fidelio, _what _happens when _I'm_ double-talented?" Emma's words were a whisper, but the shrillness of her tone was notable. Fidelio shrugged plaintively, gulping a jug of water to cool his tongue.

"It still burns," he moaned. Catching Emma's irritated eye, Fido hastily set the water jug down and furrowed his brow in false concern. "Sounds like _you're_ in a dilemma."

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes, sipping her juice ponderously. She couldn't recall dragging herself up to the girls' dormitories and wriggling into bed, but she must have done, because the following morning Emma awoke with worries and faint ghosts of troubled dreams.

"Em?" Tancred's face swam before her sleepy eyes. "Lord, you look awful."

"Thanks," Emma muttered darkly, as she slipped into the bathroom. Her eyes were streaked with the makeup she had forgotten to remove the other night, and in addition to the black marks, bags had begun to form beneath her eyes due to the lack of sleep she'd experienced.

"Oh, my word, I do look awful," she groaned, as she bit back another yawn. Emma staggered drowsily down the stairs, ignoring the giggly comments and pointers.

"What did I tell you? Bloor's is a complete hellhole."

"Look what the cat dragged in for breakfast."

"Jesus Christ; am I dreaming?"

Emma fumed as she located Gabriel Silk. She slipped through the dining hall doors to join her friend by the corner.

"Manfred's beckoning." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her through the crowd and over toward the newly-appointed teacher's assistant.

"Tolly, Silk—your exam results have concluded you _both_ to be double-talented Children of the Red King. You should feel proud. Inez Branko and Billy Raven passed the Cast Exam as well, and they have been informed."

Emma gasped. Gabriel bit his lip doubtfully. "Why do they say it's an audition? It felt—"

"The Cast Exam wasn't the audition," Manfred explained dubiously, as though the information he'd rather keep to himself. "The audition is the after-party."

"What do you mean?" Emma looked fearful. Gabriel gulped. Manfred smiled.

"You've been withdrawn from Music," Manfred told Gabriel. To Emma, he said, "Madame Tessier has agreed, with reluctance, to excuse you from your French lesson. Come to the King's Room during your class-time. I'll be waiting."


	2. Pokerface

**POKERFACE**

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Emma gulped nervously as she plodded dumbly to the King's Room.

She would have traded anything—_anything_—to skip this private party with Manfred. Even a French lesson with the notoriously-dreaded teacher, Madame Tessier. The French classroom, occupied from top to bottom with hordes of wooden vultures on shelves, tables and drawers, seemed every bit as inviting as the King's Room did not.

Inhaling deeply, Emma closed her eyes tight and pushed open the door.

Gabriel, Billy Raven, Inez Branko and Manfred Bloor had already arrived. Four pairs of eyes followed Emma as she slowly entered the room. Shivering, Emma wormed her numb fingers into the depths of her warm, cotton sweater as a sudden draught swept the room.

"Tolly!" Manfred barked, beckoning with a slim, eager hand. "Come. We haven't time to waste."

Emma flinched as Manfred steered her body across the room to stand resolutely by the still, motionless Inez Branko.

"Now, the Cast Exam After-party is the _real_ audition. Here, you discover your new abilities, your new housing departments, and your new positions in life, because this is the _first_—and _last_—life-threatening audition you will ever attend at Bloor's."

"Excuse me," Gabriel called, raising a twitchy hand. "Excuse me, sir. But how is this audition life-threatening?"

Manfred smiled unpleasantly. Emma shuddered as his eyes gleamed with malice. "Because if your body, emotions and mind reject the new ability, you will most certainly—melt away."

He waved long, bony fingers gracefully through the air. Emma gasped. Inez remained impassive.

"Do you mean—die?" Billy Raven's fingers engulfed his mouth, his albino eyes wide behind their magnified spectacles. "We'll _die_? Is there any way out?"

"There is no exit for those with cold feet," Manfred said icily, toying with the sleeve of his cloak, unperturbed. "But you will_ not_ die. It is a simple disintegration; a mere POOF and you've vanished from the surface of the earth. Sure enough, you can feel, talk, see and move, but nobody will see, hear or touch you. You are impermeable, invisible, nothing at all."

Emma suppressed another gasp. Her fingers, although enveloped safely within her sweater sleeve, had frozen completely. To her left, Inez Branko winced. Emma was pleased to know the porcelain girl wasn't entirely _dead_.

"Branko, your Cast Exam results signify you to have inherited the ability to shape the thoughts of others. A mixture of manipulation and hypnosis, really. Eye-contact is certainly required, yet the spell does not last. One thought per mind, and you're daily work is done."

Emma bit her lip. Would Inez be able to control her mind? Emma tried hard to isolate her thoughts and empty her head, but found the task dizzying and difficult. Sighing, Emma returned to the conversation with reluctance and a growing sense of apprehension.

"The Ravens most certainly are a gifted branch of magic," Manfred sneered. "Billy, you have accessed the nigh impossible affinity to juggle two endowments. Animals will be able to understand you, and at times _live_ with you."

"What does that mean?" Billy asked slowly, his scarlet eyes narrowing.

Manfred smirked.

"It means, Billy Raven, you will be alterable. You can shrink, or extend your size at will. Not only your legs will lengthen, however—your entire body follows your growth. Quite a useful talent, I understand."

Still smug, Manfred turned to Gabriel. "Ah, Silk. Coming from a poor, secondhand family, I can't say I'm surprised. Of course, accompanying Charlie Bone in his missions to 'save the endowed' wasn't wise. You have dropped your previous endowment—and presently given the gift of precognition. You are able to read the future from deciphering and interpreting artwork.

"Tolly, you have been cursed with the endowment of _love_. You have become incredibly vulnerable to the emotion itself, and it strengthens this weakness you have gained. But besides the use and feel of love, you have the knowledge. Use it wisely."

"Freak." Emma turned, surprised, to find Inez hissing in her ear. The girl seemed to be fuming inwardly, but her face betrayed no emotion. Colorless and expressionless, the Branko twin's lip quivered slightly as she smirked.

"Inez, you are transferred to Music. Billy Raven, you have been reserved a place in Art, along with Gabriel Silk. The educational help he receives from Art will help him to understand upcoming events. Tolly, you've been relocated to Drama. Dismissed."

Emma sighed as she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried from the drafty King's Room. As she headed for the Dining Hall, she collided with Tancred Torsson, who swore before his bottom met the ground.

"Ouch! Why don't you—oh, it's you." Tancred paused as he heaved himself upright, helping Emma retrieve her books. "Sorry, it was—"

"My fault," Emma interceded quickly, as she shoveled her pile of texts into her bag. "I've been enduring a lot lately. It's been a really hectic day."

"Cast Exams were always my least favorite," Tancred smiled. "How did you fare?"

Emma shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. I hope I wake up soon."

"Em?" Tancred flashed Emma a sidelong glance, his eyes concerned. "Reality check. You're not dreaming."

"No," Emma agreed calmly. "It's not a dream. It's a _nightmare_!"

Several heads turned, but Emma ignored the staring, curious eyes. Giggles rippled through the dining hall.

"It's a pokerface—all of it," Emma muttered defiantly. "When the lights shut down, and the masks come off, everyone will see it's just a pokerface. A stage façade to fool the inexperienced. A smile will crack, the light will be blinding, and the room would be loud, happy and full of love again."

"Drama?" Tancred guessed, grinning. "You were shifted, weren't you? I can't believe I missed it—you're very melodramatic."

Emma nudged the blond boy in the ribs, laughing lightly. "You won't be laughing when the misfortune falls from the sky."

"Was that an implication?" Tancred demanded, in mock anger. "Were you _implying_ that my endowment will lead to my own despair?"

Emma nodded solemnly, her eyes bright.

* * *

Emma sauntered sulkily into the Drama cloakroom the next morning, avoiding the eyes of the other students as she entered. Garbed in cloaks, capes, masks, gowns, and gloves, the Drama department eyed the red-T-shirt-clad girl with distaste. Her faded, vintage jeans didn't help her theatrical image in the least.

Emma sighed as she waved to her friend, Olivia Vertigo. Sliding nervously into her seat by the back of the room, Emma waited for Mr Derivere to take the roll call. But the teacher merely strolled daintily into the room, in a wholly-black outfit, instructing loudly.

"Class, according to the vote we held the other day, we have decided to stage a musical. The piece in question will be written by a Fidelio Gunn, a master of music."

Emma noticed, from the corner of her eye, Olivia reddening slightly.

"Positions," Mr Derivere continued, scanning through a scribbling of names on his clipboard. "Olivia Vertigo, female lead. Nathan Ford, male lead. Eugene C. Hartwell, makeup artist. Wesley Thornton, my understudy director. Reid Rubix, choreographer. Mary, Lana, Ricci and Riane have minor roles. Jenny, Emma, Pauline, Jason, Ben, Riley and Owen are our dancers. The others are our extras."

Mr Derivere waved a thin, delicate hand, signaling the start of class. Emma sighed as she rose from her seat and followed Jason Markwy to the dance group.

"Our first number," Mr Derivere said silkily, striding over, "will be Lady Gaga's 'Pokerface'. Fidelio has already decided the music; the script, he informs me, is in progress and currently 80% done. An excellent semester, indeed."

The dancers nodded uncertainly as Mr Derivere turned to scold a pair of first-formers for atrocious attire.

"Pokerface," Jason Markwy snorted. "What a selection. Fidelio Gunn's officially lost his mind."

Emma was about to retort when Pauline Gale spoke.

"Well, _you're_ not the choreographer," she chirped snobbishly, raising her eyebrows. "Reid is. What do _you_ say to Pokerface, Reid?"

"It has a good beat."

Emma nearly collapsed. She could feel her energy rushing to her heart, which was hammering thunderously against her chest. The choreographer, Reid, was tall and attractive. His blond hair was faintly streaked with brown and black, and flicked outward from his ears. His clothing indicated his rank as a skater, but in a classroom of strangely-dressed, costumed children, you never could tell. As she chanced another, hasty glance at the grinning performer, she felt love seep through every part of her body, warm to the touch and strengthening her body.

_You've been cursed with the endowment of love. You have become incredibly vulnerable to the emotion itself, and it strengthens this weakness you've gained._ Manfred's words rang hollowly in her head, without meaning or business. Emma freed her mind wildly from those thoughts, but she knew the sneering boy's words held meaning—she couldn't control her new endowment, and it weakened her. Only the sense of love could return the life into her limbs.

"Can you dance?" Jason Markwy was scrutinizing Emma with a distasteful eye.

"I—I'm quite flexible," Emma replied nervously, in spite of herself. Surely, she couldn't _dance_ in general, but she could move to the music. And she was one hundred percent coachable, in addition.

"Brilliant." Reid smiled, scanning the group with an air of satisfaction. "This will be a hit musical; I can feel it in my bones. Come on, let's get dancing!"

Emma spent the remainder of the class by Reid's side, chatting and blushing and dancing.

The bell rang, all too soon. Her gladness fled as gloom returned, and Emma darted into the purple cloakroom before anyone would see. She hurriedly packed away her bookbag and rushed down to the dining hall. Her tray full, she mumbled her thanks to Cook for the pepperoni-and-onion pizza as she left the lunch line.

She scanned the tables and crowds, searching for a familiar streaked blond boy's hair.

"Looking for me?" A grinning Reid lifted her spirits as he led her away to a table.

* * *

Tancred Torsson growled under his breath as he headed for the dining hall. Art class had been an absolute fiasco. Lysander had been in a mood, all because Homer the Parrot had been irritated the veterinarian with relentless chirping. The entire escapade had resulted in the vet insisting Mr and Mrs Sage to find a new animal doctor.

"At least my sculpture's nearly finished," Tancred muttered.

"Sorry, Tanc, didn't catch that." Charlie Bone had joined him. "Heading to lunch?"

Tancred nodded solemnly. "Speaking of lunch, are we still meeting by the Pets' Café on Saturday at noon?"

Charlie smiled. "Yep. And I spoke to Naren the other night—through her shadows—and she might be coming, as well."

"You, me, Sander, Naren, Em, Gabe, Fido and Billy—that makes eight people. Wow!"

"Don't' forget Olivia," Charlie said pointedly, flushing. Tancred hid a grin.

"Nine, then. She looks great today, don't you think?"

Charlie, blushing furiously, jerked his head in fervent agreement. Mumbling a quick excuse, Charlie made a beeline for Fidelio. Tancred's mood had considerably lightened as he pushed open the cafeteria doors.

"Pizza Day!" Billy Raven exclaimed, grinning broadly as he gestured to the menu. "Cook's special, homemade Italian pizza."

Tancred licked his lips hungrily. "Excellent. I'm _starving_."

His appetite disappeared as he rounded the corner to join the lunch line. Emma walked alongside another boy, a third-former Tancred recognized as the famously-hot Reid Rubix.

He gulped. Lysander, the only person he'd told of his crush on Emma Tolly, gave an encouraging nod from the front of the lunch line. Tancred shook his head frantically.

Emma was pretty. Her blond hair, otherwise straggly, had been ironed straight. The strands were smooth and thin, and warm to the touch. She had a figure other girls wished for constantly, and eyes that could melt any boy's heart. Her features were flawless, her personality light and likeable. Eye-catching in faded jeans and a bright red T-shirt, Emma and Reid strode to the far end of the room, still immersed in conversation.

Emma's eyes found Tancred, and she flashed a quick, perfect smile before refocusing her attention on her new friend.

Angry and unaware, Tancred sent a shower of thundering rain pouring outdoors, lightning flashing in the windowpanes. Snow began to mingle with his rain to avoid suspicion. After all, it was _winter_. Snowstorms were expected.

Dr Bloor ignored the gale as he took his seat at the Head Table. Tancred gritted his teeth, the storm intensifying, until the power flickered and failed.

"Power outages!" The Headmaster could be heard from all inches of the room. His voice was booming, accompanied with his frustration. "STAY CALM, CHILDREN. REMAIN SEATED."

Silence fell. Tancred could hear a laugh—bright and happy, like a star. Emma Tolly's laugh. Tancred felt his stomach flip. Suddenly, a white-hot flash blinded the students, and the lights revealed his whereabouts to Tancred.

_It's a pokerface—all of it. When the lights shut down, and the masks come off, everyone will see it's just a pokerface. A stage façade to fool the inexperienced. A smile will crack, the light will be blinding, and the room would be loud, happy and full of love again._

Tancred recalled Emma's words. He'd been skeptical before, but he understood now. The lights had shut down, the masks had come off. A smile had cracked, the light had been blinding, and he was instantly aware of the loud cheerfulness that had returned to the students. Loud, happy and full of love.

Tancred struggled to recall another of Emma's quotes—_You won't be laughing when the misfortune falls from the sky. _He had finally achieved single-handed misfortune. Had he not lost control, the world would still be one, perpetual pokerface.

* * *

**Jacky - This was my overall favorite chapter. I loved how everything falls into place.**

**You - It was okay. Everything fell into place.**

**Jacky - That's what I said. Okay, please review. I'd like feedback.**

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	3. Rumours

**RUMOURS**

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Lysander Sage watched his best friend sulk with a heavy heart.

He was possibly the only human on the planet who knew of Tancred's crush for Emma Tolly. Sure, Emma was pretty—gorgeous, even—but Lysander had already committed himself to Lauren. And of course, Emma could never be much more than a good friend to Lysander. The two had gotten along well in the past, but Lysander hadn't paid much attention to Emma Tolly, and from her reaction, he was ninety-nine percent certain Emma felt the exact same way about him.

Reid Rubix was a nice boy—he was popular, he was attractive, and he was friendly with little effort. Lysander and Reid had been acquaintances—not friends—but Tancred had never really thought much of the skater kid. And now, Tanc had been given just another reason to dislike Reid.

"Tanc?" Lysander tapped his friend's shoulder urgently. "Tanc, come on! It's nearly nine; Matron will already have begun her rounds."

"Forget Matron," Tancred said, his brows pulling together in a scowl of anger. "Reid Rubix has begun _his_ rounds."

"Reid's been a good boy," Lysander said, in a faultless imitation of Mrs Torsson. "Why can't you be more like him, and stop skulking?"

"Give it up, Sander," Tancred snarled in a low voice. "You'll get detention. Go back to bed."

"Like I care," Lysander snorted, rolling his eyes. "Detention's just another afternoon in Bloor's. The building's not so bad, anyhow. It's _you_ I'm worried about, Tanc, not myself. Come on, if you're really my friend, you'd listen to me."

"I'm listening." Tancred's scowl deepened.

"No, you're not," Lysander argued pointedly. "You hear me, but you're not listening to me. There's something important I've got to tell you. Saturday, when we meet at the Pets' Café. So if Matron gives you detention, I'm not waiting another week. It's your choice—would you rather be sadly misinformed, or cooperative and rewarded?"

"What's the reward? And Sunday's as good a day as any."

"Sunday is my little sister's second birthday," Lysander told him. "We'll be taking her to Orson's Orca Ocean; she _loves_ orcas. So if you're expecting a message on Sunday, I hope you won't be too disappointed. I'll be munching Oreos and snapping the killer whales on my dad's brand-new digital camera."

Tancred grumbled and scrambled reluctantly to his feet. "Come on, then."

Grinning with satisfaction, Lysander led Tancred slowly down the corridor. There were no signs of Matron as the boys loped up to their dormitory. They snuggled beneath their sheets, safe and ... still sulky.

* * *

Emma counted the hours to Drama class every single day following her Cast Exam. She'd never known of her heartfelt passion for dancing, and as the minutes passed in each Drama class, Emma could feel herself improving. Her endowment was notifying her consistently of the atmosphere change in the room, but Emma ignored these alarms.

At times, she could feel hatred and anger. At others, she could feel the energy and excitement of the hyperactive students as they auditioned for their roles and practiced their parts.

"I think you've got it down, Em," Reid remarked, as he slowed his dancing to a walking pace. The pair strolled over to the corner of the room, where Emma took a quick drink from her water bottle.

Emma smiled appreciatively. "It hasn't been easy."

"Oh, we're not done," Reid grinned. "Mrs Romanovitch retrieved the list of songs from Fidelio only this morning. We've got three more numbers—Live Your Life, Give Me the Music, and U-Turn."

Emma's smile faltered. "By memory?"

"By memory."

Emma looked up into his face, sprinkled with a smattering of freckles and couldn't resist flushing.

"Well, alright."

Reid's grin widened. "That's the spirit, Em."

* * *

Manfred's mood had darkened since breakfast.

"Bone!" he barked, fuming. "Focus! Unless you'd like another weekend of detention, you'll keep at it and I'll keep _you_!"

"No, thanks," Charlie scowled. He bent his neck, concentrating on his work. Manfred's gaze averted to the inventor's daughter. She was working diligently, but Manfred suspected something out-of-place.

Eyes narrowing, Manfred chanced a step forward. The Tolly girl seemed to be immersed in her textbook, and yet Manfred sensed a smile. Was she scorning him?

"Tolly, wipe that smile from your face!" Manfred crowed.

"Why?" Emma seemed unusually cheerful.

"Why don't you stop asking questions and return to your work," Manfred sneered mockingly, as he turned away. Shrugging, Emma obeyed. Manfred experienced a feeling of uneasiness. Was he losing his authority over the endowed?

"Billy Raven, why aren't you working?" Manfred demanded.

The small albino's eyelids fluttered. "I'm a bit drowsy, Manfred—I mean, sir. Could I please see the nurse?"

"The nurse shan't be bothered with trivial matters, Billy Raven," Manfred stated coldly. "Now, if your situation involved a fever, or a contagious disease, I would most certainly allow your absence from the King's Room. But seeing as that isn't the case, kindly sit down and continue your work."

"Yes, Manfred." Billy obeyed.

_Claaaang!_ The brazen sound of the bell startled Manfred, but he struggled to remain impassive as the children leapt from their seat, elated to leave. As soon as the endowed had filed from the chamber, Manfred locked the door and strode across the room to a bookcase. He removed a leather bound book containing the stamped silhouette of a goddess on the cover, and was instantly transported to the other side. The 'other side', hidden from the students and the staff. None but the Bloors knew of the secret passage Bloor's Academy housed.

Manfred followed the dank, dusty tunnel through to another bookcase. Another leather bound book with a silhouette—this of a god—and he was immediately flipped to face his great-grandfather and father; the bookcase had swapped sides to become the solid brick wall of Ezekiel Bloor's cozy, overheated 'nest'. That was the newly-appointed title for Ezekiel's bedroom. Manfred had heard the students whispering when they had assumed he hadn't been listening. _The Wax Man's nest, _they called it. _He lures little students inside and experiments with them._

Not true—well, partially. Ezekiel _did_ experiment, and at times he had used guinea pigs when none had been available, but luring? Ridiculous.

"Manfred." His father acknowledged his presence with a single nod.

"Father—Ezekiel—Billy Raven may be a problem."

"How come?" Ezekiel screeched. "The albino boy? A problem? He's never been a problem. He's listened to me through the thick and thin—I thought he was our spy."

Old Ezekiel. Manfred sighed heavily. Sometimes, old men frustrated him. Their short-term memory and lack of information was downright unbearable.

"No, Gramps," Harold Bloor insisted, "Billy Raven's a turncoat. He's been hooked by Charlie Bone. He's _their_ responsibility, now."

Ezekiel hissed in displeasure. "Curse the Lord, what is happening to us? Harry, Manfred—we're _Bloors_, for bloody Jesus' sake! First we've lost Dorothy, and now Billy Raven—"

Dr Bloor exhaled calmly. "Not now, Gramps."

Ezekiel quieted, waiting patiently for Manfred.

"Billy Raven—I think he's going to die."

* * *

The buzz around the school intensified.

Billy Raven was going to die.

Girls, shrieking shrilly, arrived at class nearly fifteen minutes late, pale and scared. Boys, meanwhile, taunted Billy and grinned heartily throughout the day. Billy Raven, his face as white as his hair, endured the first four hours, but wasn't to be found in the cafeteria at lunch.

Emma searched the entire tables, scanning for a certain head of snow-white hair. No Billy. She joined the lunch line, her intentions not set on food, but on answers.

"Cook," Emma whispered, leaning forward as tactful Gabriel from behind struck a loud conversation with Rupe Small, a boy from his dormitory. "Do you know where Billy is?"

"Yes, dear." Cook's reply was heartwarming and gave Emma relief. "He's inside the kitchen, weeping his eyes out. Would you like to see him?"

Emma nodded. She nudged Gabriel, who had been eavesdropping, and ducked out of sight. Gabriel created an attention-drawing fiasco with the mustard bottle.

Emma could distantly hear Manfred ordering Gabriel to clean up the mess, despite the droopy boy's staged protests. Gabe was no expert, but he would do until one came along.

Smiling, Emma quickly wriggled through a narrow hallway and down into the kitchens. She spotted an angry Mrs Weedon, and hid inside a nearby store cupboard until the grouchy lady had disappeared around the corner. Sighing, Emma dodged through the sacks of grain, bags of potatoes and serving carts. She made a beeline for Cook, who indicated a back door.

Billy was inside, alright, and was bawling silently. He brushed his watery eyes when he noticed the door open, but he lowered his hand as Cook's features swam into focus. His nose was red, his eyes were puffy, and his cheeks were pale. He had definitely been crying long.

"Billy—are you alright?" Emma tentatively knelt on the ground beside Billy, resting an encouraging hand on his arm. "Pull yourself together, Billy. You're not going to die. You're a Child of the Red King."

"The Red King died," Billy said pointedly, sniffing. Emma glanced dubiously toward Cook for assistance, but the kindly chef merely shrugged.

"He hasn't died, Billy," Emma reminded him. "His spirit is still here—he's a tree, don't you remember? He'll always be here, now and forever."

Cook nodded approvingly as Billy gave a weak smile. "I remember."

"Lighten up, Billy." Cook had come to his side with a handkerchief. "Here, take this. I'll excuse you from the King's Room today. You, too, Emma. I have much to tell you."

Emma seemed astonished, but remained silent as Cook sent a hurried telegram to Madame Tessier and Mr Derivere. Emma hadn't wished to skip Drama with Reid, but she brushed off the matter and forced herself to focus on the urgency of the situation—Cook had something to tell her.

"What is it, Cook?"

Billy and Emma settled eagerly into a pair of reclining armchairs by the far wall, as Cook wiped her grubby hands on her chocolate-smeared apron and tousled her grey hair busily.

"It's been a hectic day, children—let me rest for a while, first."

Emma and Billy exchanged glances and nods. Less than two minutes later, Cook flinched, and seemed to realize she was daydreaming.

"Oh, dear. Sorry, Emma and Billy. I have something to say about the truth of your 'death' rumor, Billy, dear."

Billy's eyebrows shot up. "Yes?"

"You aren't going to _die_, Billy," Cook reassured him. Billy relaxed, wiping his eyes again. Emma noticed the back of his hand was drenched in teary water. "You're simply going to lose a part of you."

"_Huh_?" Two pairs of eyes bored into Cook, pressing for information.

"Billy—as you both know—was gifted with double-talent blessing. But he was the oddball of the four double-talented. He was the juggler; and Manfred said that when your body, emotions and mind chose to reject the new gift, you would 'melt away'."

"Cook, how do you know this?"

"Students come to me every year after each Cast Exam, looking for pity," Cook smiled. "But Billy's melting right now. Since he's been gifted with the ability to juggle two endowments, he'll only lose one. But he'll be vulnerable, Emma. Protect him."

Emma nodded obediently as she led Billy from the room. Cook, moaning as her servants began to complain about her baked goods, hollered a hurried goodbye.

Emma stood outside the door, watching as students ran by in slow motion. Suddenly, noises and sounds whipped by her ears, and everything began to whizz by, as though somebody had accidentally hit the Fast-Forward button on a remote control. Dragging Billy along, Emma shoved through the swarm of anxious students to see a limp body wriggling on the ground.

"She's having a seizure!" Gwyneth Howells, an unbelievably whiney second-former, bellowed the words at the top of her lungs. Shrieks split the air, frightened wails echoed through the dining hall.

Suddenly, the body became motionless. Emma squinted through a gap of girls for a better view. She recognized the low-cut profile immediately.

Inez Branko was dead.

* * *

**Jacky - How was that, huh?**

**You - Yay! The creeper twin is dead!**

**Jacky - Mhm, she died for a reason. It comes later on in the plot. Possibly next chapter.**

**ps. Review for more updates, please!  
**


	4. Uproar

**UPROAR**

**

* * *

**

Inez Branko's death had left behind a chaotic atmosphere.

Pandemonium reeked in every single classroom. Tancred Torsson found it considerably harder to control his temper as girls squealed each time an endowed student entered the room. Scowling, he blocked his mind from the shrieks and whisperings as he slid into his seat by the back of the History classroom.

Mr Pope, the teacher, yanked from the ceiling of the classroom a small string. Instantly, a scroll revealing a political map of the world swung downward, and he grabbed his meter stick with vigor.

"Class, it is time for our monthly oral pop quiz," Mr Pope declared, as thought immune to the following groans and protests. "Today's topic is Adolf Hitler and his Reign over Europe and its Jews."

Gordon Isbister, an unendowed first-former who was known to be distantly related to the tiny Rupe Small, raised an apprehensive hand. "I thought we were studying Napoleon, sir," he squeaked. "I reviewed Napoleon last night, sir."

"Well, that's too bad, _sir_," Mr Pope sneered mockingly. "We're focusing now, on Hitler. When you review, Gordon Isbister, you glance through _everything_, not just the current topic. Why don't you tell your relative, Rupe Small?"

Giggling humorlessly, much to the amusement and shock of the class, Mr Pope waved his meter stick across the map. "Where, who can tell me, was Adolf Hitler born?"

Isaiah Ghendad, an Indian third-former with round glasses and a bright orange turban, raised his hand formally. "Austria," he stated surely.

Mr Pope cleared his throat. "Well done, Isaiah," he remarked. "Now, which party did Adolf join in 1920?"

Tancred knew this answer. He racked his brain, but found that no signs of History could be found in his head. Angrily, he unintentionally freed a torrent of rain. Soaked to the skin and scowling, Mr Pope indicated the door.

"OUT!" he roared, ruffling his drenched hair. Tancred gathered his books. As he exited the room, he could hear Isaiah Ghendad's voice announcing "The Nazi Party, sir."

Tancred slumped against the wall outside, wondering where Charlie Bone could be.

Meanwhile, Charlie was busily packing for the weekend.

"Leave it to the Branko twins to create an uproar," Charlie Bone muttered as he shoved a heap of clothes into his suitcase. "Why aren't you packing, Billy?"

"Because I live here," the clueless albino replied.

Charlie chuckled. "That was my subtle invitation for you to spend the weekend at number nine, Billy."

Billy leapt up, elated. "Really? Do you mean it, Charlie?"

"Two words—start packing."

Billy laughed as he began to fill his bag with clothes and keepsakes. "Thanks, Charlie! Thanks!"

"It's not all fun-and-done, Billy," Charlie commented gravely.

Billy fell silent, staring at Charlie's grim expression with curiosity and apprehension. "What do you mean?"

"There are things to discuss," Charlie said evasively. "We're meeting at the Pets' Café this Saturday afternoon, because Sander, Fido and Liv couldn't make it Sunday. So, we're hoping nobody's landed a detention."

Realization dawned on Billy. "It's important, isn't it?" he asked, eyes wide. "It has something to do with the Children of the Red King."

Charlie nodded bleakly. "Plenty to do with the Red King, Billy. Hurry; I'll save you a seat in the dining hall, alright?"

"Thanks, Charlie!" Billy exclaimed again, as Charlie hurried from the room.

"Now, what was _that_ all about?"

* * *

The dining hall was packed. Charlie shoved past, locating Fidelio's hay-colored hair instantaneously from within the crowds.

"Fido!" he called, as loudly as he could over the racket of chattering students. "Fidelio! Fidelio Gunn!"

Fidelio turned, surprised. Sighting Charlie, he grinned and waved, beckoning with an urgent hand. _Come see_, he mouthed silently.

Charlie nudged his way through the fray to his friend.

"What's up?" Charlie asked, eyeing Fidelio's bean bun hungrily.

Fidelio followed Charlie's doleful gaze. "I see you haven't bothered to find yourself a meal," Fidelio chortled, wrapping the bean bun in a napkin and handing Charlie several buttered rolls in addition. "Here, I can tell you're starving."

"Not just _starving_," Charlie corrected, as he eagerly accepted the bean bun and rolls. "I'm utterly famished. What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing important," Fido remarked sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, lowering his voice as he leaned in. "You missed _plenty_. Where were you?"

"In the dorm, packing," Charlie replied, as though the answer were obvious. "It's Friday—what d'you expect?"

"Here—there's a better view on my left. A civil war's begun."

"_What_?" Charlie shifted to Fidelio's left, and he saw what his friend meant. A civil war was a battle between two cities housed by the same country, such as a violent dispute between Vancouver and Dawson's Creek, B.C.; two of the 'bad-side' endowed were fighting.

Idith Branko and Manfred.

"Why are you blaming _me_ for your stupid sister's death?" Manfred roared, his cape swirling ominously around his ankles. "Inez was the one idiotic enough to reject her double-talent blessing."

"It's not a blessing," Idith Branko hissed in return, her voice unusually shrill with anger. Hatred for the Headmaster's son blazed in her colorless eyes. "It's a curse. _You're_ a curse."

Manfred snorted contemptuously. "Why don't you join your look-alike in hell, where you can both slander Bloor's in harmony?"

"That's _not_ FUNNY!" Idith's forehead was pinched with concentration. Charlie knew her endowment—telekinesis—could be dangerous.

Dangerous, indeed. A table, screaming students sliding off as the far end tipped upward, flew straight toward Manfred. But Manfred's double-talented strength, which Charlie knew had replaced his hypnotism talent only recently, sent the shattered wood fragments flying. Children ducked as splintery chips made for the ground, hollering warnings and alerts.

"Get out of the way!"

"Heads up!"

"Come on, let's get out of here!"

Charlie watched a particularly large chunk of the bench zoom toward Fidelio as if it were a comet streaking down to Earth.

"Fido!" he bellowed, but his warning came too late. Fidelio drooped to the floor, slumped and motionless. Charlie began sobbing names: "Tancred? Sander! Are you here? Em—Liv? Cook? _Cook! COOK!"_

Cook was by his side in an instant, examining Fidelio's state. "His condition is bad, I'll have to admit, Charlie. He's unconscious. I expect it's a minor concussion. I'll send Sabella to the Infirmary."

She called to her waitress, and Charlie returned, reassured and relieved, to the argument between Idith and Manfred.

No longer was it an argument; the furious pair had begun to battle. Food, tables, benches, plates and cutlery flew toward Manfred, who was frantically attempting to shatter the flying objects with his two fists as quickly as possible. This was difficult for him, Charlie could see, because Manfred's knuckles could only eliminate one object at a time—and Idith had sent a multitude of dangers.

Students shrieking, rushing and sobbing over the din as Dr Bloor arrived. Charlie didn't want to stay for the lecture. Silverware flew above Charlie's head, grazing his nest of black hair lightly.

"Charlie! Let's leave!"

Charlie jumped the sound of his name. The squeaky albino's voice could not be mistaken from a mile away. He scanned the columns of panicked heads, finally locating Billy's snowy hair and glinting spectacles.

"Come on, Billy! Hurry!" Charlie seized Billy's wrist. Together, they darted up to the boys' dormitories, where they grabbed their luggage and sped to the entrance hall.

Nearly the majority of the students had beaten Charlie to the foyer of the Academy. The doors were forced open by a pressured Mr Weedon, and the rusty gate, recently oiled, swung forth invitingly to the students.

Crowds and crowds of children poured into the streets of the city; Charlie headed directly for Filbert Street. As he staggered wearily into Number Nine, Billy Raven in tow, he found a silver moth had followed him home, glittering in the sunlight as it rested on Charlie's shoulder.

"Well, hello," he smiled, exhausted from the running. Billy, freeing his wrist from Charlie's grasp, panted drowsily as he slid onto the floor.

"_Codi_!" Charlie ordered, his breathing heavy as the 'wand' obeyed. Charlie and Billy were lifted lightly into the air and carried up the stairwell as though human boys were naturally buoyant.

"What the—?" Uncle Paton peeked out his door, watching as a snoring Charlie and Billy were guided into Charlie's small bedroom at the end of the hall by a shining moth. Smiling to himself, Charlie's uncle closed the door, deciding he didn't really want to know.

* * *

Saturday morning, Emma awoke bright and early. Today was Julia's busiest day of the week.

"Only eight a.m. and the customers are staring into my shop window already, Emma," Julia Ingledew sighed as she swapped her _Sorry, we're CLOSED_ sign for a flashing light that read _OPEN_.

"It's alright, Auntie," Emma said quickly. "I'll handle the customers; you can make breakfast."

With little reluctance, Miss Ingledew retreated into her kitchen. She knew her niece was capable of dealing with business matters. Often, Emma was left to manage the bookshop, and Miss Ingledew didn't mind.

"Hello—I'm looking for a Christmas gift for my wife," Mr Irving, the former Drama professor of Bloor's, said. "Oh—Emma Tolly! I didn't realize you were employed. Minimum wage, I suppose?"

It took seconds for Mr Irving's words to sink in. "Oh!" Emma said, startled. "I'm not an employee, Mr Irving. This is my home."

Mr Irving smirked slightly, but he dropped the topic immediately. "Well, what do you think _Mrs_ Irving would enjoy reading?"

"It would help, sir," Emma said, between clenched teeth, "if you knew the _genre _of books she enjoyed reading."

"She's not an avid reader—she glances through magazines, scans cookbooks, et cetera. Mrs Irving is somewhat of a homebody."

"I recommend the culinary and horticultural books," Miss Ingledew trilled suddenly, entering the room with a fully-laden tray in her hands. "Here, Emma. Thank you. I'll handle Mr Irving."

"Yes," Mr Irving sneered. "Goodbye, Emma."

Emma scowled as she obeyed her auntie. She exited the shop front, Mr Irving's endless chatter ringing in her ears.

"No, gardening certainly isn't a common hobby for Helen. She does love pets, I must say."

Emma gave a start. Pets! How could she have forgotten about her meeting at the Pets' Café?

She issued a hurried, incomprehensible explanation to her aunt Julia, who replied with a baffled nod. Emma arrived at the Pets' Café in minutes, seeing as the Pets Café was located on Frog Street, an abandoned roadside by the Cathedral.

Gabriel, waiting by the corner, handed a furry gerbil to Emma as she passed.

"Is anyone else coming, Em?"

"I don't think so," Emma sighed. "I'm horribly late—I'll bet everyone's already inside, Gabe. Come on."

Gabriel followed Emma as they approached the door. But as Gabriel slid through the narrow entry, greeting their friends, Emma was stopped by a hand.

Tancred Torsson.

"_Tancred_?" Emma shrugged her arm from his grip. "Let go of me! What do you want?"

"I want you to know, Reid Rubix is _no good for you_."

Emma flushed, but her eyes remained defiant. "Reid is friendly, considerate and talented. He's everything _you're_ not, Tancred Torsson."

"That's exactly what I meant," Tancred growled, his eyes blazing. "Reid is _talented_. Emma—I think he's endowed."

* * *

**Jacky - What did you think?**

**You - Hmm...**

**Jacky - Hint to Remember:Tancred's actions are 85% of the time out of jealousy. **

**Review, please, and I will update more.  
**


	5. Theoretical

**THEORETICAL**

Charlie Bone and Fidelio Gunn raced toward the Cathedral.

"Frog Street—I can see it!" Charlie cheered, as they sprinted down the side walk. "Hurry up, Fido, I'll bet we're the last ones!"

"Well," Fidelio panted huffily, "we wouldn't _be_ the last ones if you hadn't insisted on another plate of sausages, fatso!"

Charlie gasped in mock horror. "_I_ am the fatso? Impossible. We call you 'Fido' for a reason, _dog_!"

"Who're you calling a dog?" Fidelio growled sarcastically.

"The way _you_ gobble Maisie's meals, you deserve the title!" Charlie roared in reply, as the wind whipped his ears. "Pick up the pace; it's freezing!"

They rounded the corner to see Runner Bean darting towards them, his fur quivering in the cold.

"Now _there's_ a dog," Fidelio grinned, with satisfaction. "Here, boy!"

"That's strange," Charlie murmured, as he absently combed Runner's fur with his fingers.

"What's strange?" Fidelio asked, tickling the hairy dog's ears with joy. Runner Bean barked with delight. "He seems happy enough. I wonder where Benjamin is."

"Did I forget to tell you?" Charlie asked, snapping back into the conversation. "The Browns are all off to Nebraska, for another case about poisoned fish and a burglar. Apparently, an international company owned the fish, and they've hired the Browns to solve the case. A great heap of money's involved, so Ben's parents couldn't turn it down. Just like the time they left for Hong Kong, Runner couldn't come."

"Is _that_ what's strange?" Fidelio questioned, searching for clues on Charlie's impassive face. "Runner Bean without a Benjamin?"

"No," Charlie muttered softly, staring into the distance. "It's Tancred and Emma. Why aren't they inside, with the rest of the gang?"

Fidelio peered at the two figures, merely shadowy silhouettes in the cloudy darkness as evening began to settle in. "Let's go find out," he suggested, grabbing Runner Bean's lead. "They seem to be arguing."

But before they could approach the pair, the two blondes had already ducked inside the Pets' Café. Shrugging, Fidelio followed, with Runner in tow.

"What took you so long?" Lysander asked, his eyes narrowing with concern. Glancing quickly at Tancred, Lysander could read from his friend's hard expression that his discussion with Emma hadn't gone too well.

"Nothing," Tancred replied hastily, scowling as he slid into his seat. "We'll talk about it later."

"Sure," Lysander said reasonably, though he was aching to know. "What about you two?"

"Runner sidetracked us," Fidelio laughed, accepting a biscuit from a plate on the table. "Now, what's so important?"

"The Bloors," Charlie chirped instantly. "They're up to no good."

"Big surprise," Olivia muttered, rolling her eyes. "Any theories, Charlie?"

"No!" Lysander stood, his knuckles paling as they clenched the edge of the table. "We depend too much on theories. Where has that gotten us?"

Nobody answered. Nobody dared take a breath.

"It's gotten us into spots of trouble, that's where!" Lysander bellowed, causing and couple of newlyweds with their Doberman to slink out of the café in terror. "I don't yet know the problem, but we've got to plan this out. Have you noticed, from the moment we rescued Emma Tolly, our dilemmas have become worse with each term? Next were Henry Yewbeam, and then Ollie Sparks. After that, it brought us to a deserted island in the middle of the sea, where, without thinking, Charlie nearly got stuck in a mirror, and _theoretically_ supposed Albert Tuccini was his father! If he'd lived on that theory, would Mr Pilgrim be Lyell Bone?"

Charlie could feel himself flushing. He realized now, how many mistakes he had made in the past.

"After the Castle of Mirrors, Charlie's mother was indecently bewitched. Count Harken Badlock was freed, and the battle was unfair. He was powerful, practiced, and everything we were not. Was it certain we would win?"

"No," Charlie said meekly, slumping in his seat.

"Exactly," Lysander said. He was breathing heavily now. "And then, Asa's rampage helped to calm things little. Now the Bloors are infuriated with losing their beastly spy—literally—and of course they're up to no good! If we leave this next problem to utter theory, the worst that could happen _isn't_ detention, _isn't_ suspension,_ isn't _expulsion. Reality check, friends!"

"Lysander's right," Emma said, glaring pointedly at Tancred. "You can't leave anything to complete theory. Because theories are no more than _false accusations_!"

"Emma, I'm 99% sure of this," Tancred replied, returning her glare.

"That missing 1% helps _my_ case."

Lysander looked from one to the other. "Tanc," he said calmly, laying a restive hand on Tancred's shoulder, "what's going on?"

Tancred merely shook himself from the African's grip, still glowering at Emma. "Emma, he's _not good for you_."

"Why?" Emma said fiercely; far too fiercely, in Charlie's opinion. Emma was angry—none of the group had ever really seen Emma angry.

"Because he's endowed!" Tancred shouted, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "He's endowed, Emma, I know it!"

"So you won't let me date a boy because he's endowed?" Emma said scornfully. "What if I were to date Fidelio? Or Gabriel? Or _you_? Oh wait, I CAN'T, BECAUSE YOU'RE ENDOWED. Sorry, Tancred, I _completely_ forgot."

Tancred paused. She had hit home. He was being hypocritical, suggesting that she couldn't date a Child of the Red King.

"That's different," he managed to murmur. Emma smirked. "Do you _like_ him that much?"

"I don't like Reid," Emma protested. "I love him."

Olivia was a colourful blur as she scrambled to her feet. "Emma!"

"It's my endowment, Liv," Emma explained testily, as she turned to face her best friend. "Manfred told me, after the Cast Exam. _You're cursed with Love_, were his words. The emotion weakens me, because—because I've grown vulnerable to love. So when I—feel—for someone, it strengthens me. I need it to live; it's just like Manfred said: love's a curse, when it's your endowment."

Everyone gasped. Tancred's eyes widened.

"So—you love Reid Rubix because he's there to feed you strength?"

Emma sighed exasperatedly. "Manfred also said I had the knowledge. I may be vulnerable, but I'm wise in the practice. I can get away with anything."

"Not with this, you can't," Tancred scoffed.

"I could love _two_ people, and keep my feelings neutral. I could refuse to love another, and my conscience would remain solid, because I understand everything about love itself. Is that comprehensible?"

"It's a tad baffling," Lysander piped up, "but at least it's not theoretical."

"I was given this jolt, when I first met Reid," Emma continued. "I nearly fainted, but I grew stronger. I knew what it meant; Reid gave me my first feeling of love when we linked arms for the dance."

"It's his endowment," Tancred muttered darkly. "I'll bet—"

"THEORY," Lysander hurriedly interrupted, as loudly as he could. Mr Onimous, from the counter, gave a startled yelp as the African's baritone voice echoed around the small café.

"Wait, Sander," Emma said slowly, "I want to hear his theory. Go on, Tancred Torsson."

Tancred avoided Emma's enraged eyes, staring instead at the plate of biscuits on the table. Nobody had touched a single snack since Lysander's outburst.

"I think Reid—like Olivia—is hiding his endowment from the Bloor's," Tancred said. "Clearly, nobody else does."

"It's a _theory_, Tanc," Lysander reminded him. "No one's about to agree until the evidence is found."

"Whatever," Tancred muttered, disintegrating a biscuit into powdery, chocolate crumbs. Lysander noticed his knuckles had grown chalky white. "He could be a _spy_; using Emma to sneak a peek at our actions."

"That's very unlikely, Tanc," Fidelio piped confidently. "I doubt it."

"Oh, yeah?" Tancred began to flush. Charlie sensed danger.

"Cool it, Tanc," he whispered, munching innocently on a biscuit. "I think what Fido meant is that Reid doesn't seem like the spy type. And if he _were_ a spy, Manfred would still have him placed in the King's Room. Look at Billy; he was a spy, and the Bloors didn't _hide_ him."

"That's true," Tancred said uncertainly. Charlie recognized the doubt in his eyes.

"And Reid Rubix would _never_ use me," Emma scowled.

Tancred nodded, again with reluctance. But Charlie noticed the absence of Tancred's movements. He was lost in thought, apparently.

* * *

Tancred mentally smote his forehead.

_Of course Reid wasn't a spy_, he mused angrily. _Mentioning the absurd idea has only revealed your jealousy and lack of intelligence, moron._

And of course Reid Rubix would never use Emma to his advantage. Was there a single, sane skill he, Tancred Torsson, possessed—one that Reid Rubix did not? But surely, anyone who had Emma Tolly to themselves would be completely lost in their luck. Nobody would dare misuse such a beautiful girl.

Tancred glanced hastily at the inventor's daughter. She was talking; her dainty lips moving. But he couldn't hear a word. She was so pretty, with her faded vintage jeans, those large, bright eyes and her serene smile. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and stroke her hair: strawberry-blond, sleekly straight-ironed and warm to the touch. He distinctly recalled the first day he'd seen her as Emma Tolly.

It had been a party, on the longest night of the year, held at Ingledew's in honour of Emma's entrance into her new life. She had pulled her lush, blond hair into a ponytail, bobbing behind her as she skipped up to the stage. Her cheeks had regained their rosiness, and a large smile had played around her face.

Distantly, he was aware of a hand waving in front of his face. Charlie's concerned eyes swam into focus as he readjusted into the present. _Reality check, Tancred_, he told himself firmly.

"I—I'm fine," he managed to stutter.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't stay much longer," Fidelio huffed formally, already on his feet. "Felix's band will be performing at the Jubilant Jollies Auditorium, and now that I have the house to myself, my mother, and Pudding the cat, I can finally tune my violin."

Farewells were said, hugs were given and waves were exchanged.

"I've got to leave, too," Gabriel muttered. "My sisters and I are visiting our Uncle Webbo at seven o'clock. It's nearly six-thirty, and it'll take me all but a half hour to run home, fetch May and the others and down to Darkly Wynd."

"Your Uncle Webbo lives in Darkly Wynd?" Charlie asked, startled. He knew the place well; his three Great Aunts stayed at Numbers 13 and 13. Once, he'd chanced a risky trip down to the spooky, lightless aisle on a mere whim, and had glimpsed Yolanda Yewbeam assisting his Aunt Venetia to bewitch clothing.

"Yeah," Gabriel said, scowling as he accepted his gerbils from Emma and Tancred. "He's a right downer, Uncle Webbo is." He adjusted his voice into a fair imitation of his paunchy relative. "_May will go far, that girl will. She'll make a hell of a witch, this little mite will. She has all the makings of an evil 'un, I can sense it in her. You should be proud, little brother."_

"He thinks your sister should become a witch?" Charlie asked, stunned.

Gabriel nodded. "It's his theory, see? If a girl grows up cloistered, scolded and disobedient, a right witch she'll make."

"Theories!" Lysander spat. "I don't suppose you lot want to _listen_ to these assumptions?"

With that, the tall African, Homer the parrot cawing loudly on his shoulder, stormed from the café.

"It's hardly our fault the word _theory_ comes up so much in everyday conversation," Olivia frowned.

Tancred's mind spun. He recalled the evening Lysander had been trying to coax him up to bed. _Matron will have begun her rounds_.

He'd brought Reid Rubix into the argument, and it had resulted with Lysander tempting him to come to the Pets' Café on Saturday, due to the fact the African needed to tell Tancred something—something important.

"Sander!" Tancred yelled, leaping from his seat. He raced outdoors, where he found his best friend on the corner of Frog Street. "Sander! You said you had something to—to tell me?"

Lysander nodded grimly. "And this is no theory, Tanc."

"I never said it was."

Lysander's face broke into a wide grin. "I knew I could count on you, Tanc. Well, I know this will be a touchy topic, but it's about Reid Rubix."

Tancred clenched his jaw. "Go on."

"He could be endowed, and he might be a spy. But there's one thing I've neglected to tell you, all these years we've been friends."

"You mean, from the first day we met at Bloor's," Tancred corrected, his eyes blazing. "Was this neglect deliberate?"

"It wasn't deliberate," Lysander protested. "But it was for a purpose."

"On purpose, deliberate—no difference," Tancred growled.

"The point is," Lysander said loudly, taking care to drown Tancred's mutters, "that my spirit ancestors are summoned at will. They don't protect _me_, they don't help _me_. They're protecting and helping the Children of the Red King. When one of us gets involved, _all_ of us are."

Tancred grunted.

Lysander continued, "So they watch out for _all_ of the endowed. Lately, they've been keeping an eye on Emma."

"Emma? What?" Tancred was so startled, he forgot to scowl.

"I've been talking to them. They say that if Emma doesn't act now, all will be lost."

"What do you mean, act now?" Tancred glowered.

"I don't know," Lysander wailed. "They merely told me it was Emma's duty to act, and if she didn't take charge soon, all will be lost for the Children of the Red King. After this message, they sent me a mental image of Inez and Manfred, fighting in the dining hall."

"Why should we listen to your spirit ancestors?" Tancred scoffed.

"They're prophets, Tanc," Lysander implored. "Please, please promise me you won't brush off this warning."

Tancred's smirk widened. His face remained skeptical. "It's hardly a warning."

"Tanc!" Lysander roared, the begging no longer apparent. "Tanc, say you will!"

Tancred smiled. "No."

Lysander couldn't resist losing control. Why was Tancred being so difficult? "You want to live an independent life? Who are you, you cocky kid?" Lysander punched Tancred—_smack_—in the face.

He turned on his heel, Homer the parrot applauding silently with his wings.

Tancred, his nose bleeding, felt the daft grin leave his face. What was _wrong_ with him?

* * *

**Jacky - I seriously will admit, I lost my temper writing this.**

**You - I noticed. Especially by Lysander's theory outburst and Tancred's cockiness.**

**Jacky - Was it that obvious?**

**You - Yes.**

**Jacky - Oh, well. Review please! The feedback is welcome. More chapters coming soon.**

**I will update as much as possible this winterbreak, and I hope you will all read as much. : ) 3**

* * *


	6. Secrets

**A note before we begin Chapter Six:**

**Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year. Please Review this chapter.**

**Indeed, this is my very first Fanfic story and I'll be pleased to hear constructive criticism.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

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**

**SECRETS**

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Tancred shuffled uneasily into the King's Room.

Dinner had not been a pleasant affair. Lysander had been deliberately avoiding him; Cook had been taken ill with the flu, and Sabella's futile attempt at Cook's Monday specialty—onion-and-leek soup—hadn't been _slightly_ off: it had been _way _off.

"Torsson—Branko—hurry up!" Manfred Bloor barked, beckoning impatiently with a bony, menacing hand. "Class has already started, and I doubt you'd like another detention."

Tancred and Idith Branko, who had refused to erase the scowl from her face since her sister's death, slid into their seats. The atmosphere was one of discomfort and apprehension. Tancred, impulsively, shot a wary glance toward the headmaster's son.

"Good job, Torsson," Manfred leered. "You've uncovered the tension at last. Now, before I begin my announcement, I would like Bone to tell me the topic of our discussion."

Charlie gave a startled jerk. "What?"

"Tell me, Bone," Manfred drawled, "how frequently does your brain shrink?"

Charlie slumped in his seat, reddening. He remained silent, and Manfred's sneer grew.

"I asked a question, Charlie Bone!" His voice had dropped, and was silky in a low, dangerous way. Tancred hoped beyond hope Charlie had been paying subconscious attention, though it seemed unlikely. "What were we discussing?"

"I—I don't know, sir."

"And why was that?" Manfred asked, smoothly, turning away from the students to glower at the portrait of the Red King on the wall.

"Because I—I was staring at the portrait of the Red King."

Tancred sighed. He knew Charlie could never resist attempting to travel through the Red King's impassive expression and into his thoughts.

"Staring at the portrait of the Red King," Manfred mimicked, his eyes cold and hard. "That's it, Bone! You've secured yourself a seat of detention for this weekend. You'll be staying with Mr Weedon in the Music Tower. The janitor has kindly volunteered to keep a watchful eye on you, Bone. Remember to thank Mr Weedon, the next time you cross paths."

"Yes, sir. But why won't I be staying with you, in the King's Room?"

Tancred wished Charlie wouldn't ask so many questions. Be that as it may, Manfred seemed, as a first, happy to be able to provide the answers.

"Firstly, you'll be staying with Mr Weedon because I—and the rest of the endowed children—will be preoccupied that weekend. And secondly, you have been denied the permission to remain isolated in the King's Room with the knowledge that you will attempt, once again, to enter the Red King's portrait. You're his descendant, Charlie Bone—why not show some respect for your great ancestor?"

Charlie gulped. Tancred knew his friend's conscience was largely vulnerable.

"Get back to work!" Manfred snapped.

* * *

The remainder of Tancred's day did not improve.

"It's been horrible, Sander," Tancred pleaded, as he followed the tall African around the dining hall with his tray. "And I'm really sorry about yesterday, for the thirtee—"

"Don't say _thirteenth_," Lysander mumbled grudgingly. "It's an unlucky number, and I won't hear it. Apology accepted."

Tancred couldn't suppress a grin. But his cheerfulness at regaining an old friend vanished as Emma Tolly entered, deep in thought.

"There's Emma," Tancred murmured, his eyes fixed on the pretty blond as she expertly wove her way through the crowd. "I wonder what's gotten her so ruffled lately."

"She isn't _ruffled_," Lysander protested firmly. "You hurt her feelings, that's all. Especially with all that B.S. about Reid Rubix. You sounded like a jealous soap opera villain."

"Oh." Tancred couldn't find anything else to say. He stared at his plate of minced meat, biting his lip regretfully.

"It's alright," Lysander assured him. "Emma will be ready and willing to forgive you. She's always been a very nice girl."

Tancred merely nodded mutely.

"Talking about me?" Emma's coy, teasing voice brought Tancred back to his senses. He felt a yearning desire to snap a reply, but Sander's fork, which he had purposefully clanged loudly on the edge of his bowl, erased the wish from his head.

"Hi, Emma," Lysander grinned. "What's going on?"

"Not much." Emma grimaced. "I'm sorry to hear Charlie's gotten detention this weekend. He'll miss out on the fun!"

"What fun?" Tancred's head jerked up, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"A little water-ride," Emma smiled slyly. She sauntered away from the boys' table to join Olivia Vertigo.

"With all due dignity," Lysander grunted, "Discreetness was uncalled for!"

"I hate secrets," Tancred muttered in agreement.

Glancing over at Emma and Olivia, Tancred noticed the two girls giggling madly and gesturing about wildly with their hands. Emma's fingers fluttered like butterflies as she motioned a large wave.

"Hello, Sander and Tanc." Gabriel had arrived to accompany the third-formers to their dormitories. "Is anything—the matter?"

_Of course he would think there was something going on_, Tancred smirked. _Lysander's face is priceless_.

For Lysander's expression was one of pure concentration.

"He's thinking," Tancred improvised wildly. "It—It's a habit."

"It's not a _habit_," Sander spat suddenly, still focused. "I'm trying to interpret Emma's riddles."

At the sound of Emma's name, Tancred looked up. "What did you say?"

"Emma's riddles," Lysander repeated absently. Tancred and Gabriel exchanged confused glances. Leaving Gabriel baffled, Lysander continued, "Her movements; her words."

"Emma didn't give us a riddle." Tancred stared hard into his African friend's eyes. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Lysander said slowly. "No, I haven't lost my mind. The riddle, Tanc! Em spoke in riddles."

Tancred racked his brain to remember Emma's exact words as Gabriel shuffled away toward the exit, clearly perplexed. Tancred, no longer puzzled, shouted his memory of Emma's "riddle" with relish and triumph.

"She said Charlie would miss out on the water-ride!"

"Exactly," Lysander mumbled, now glowering at a woodchip that had separated itself from the oaken table. "Exactly."

"Olivia will tell us," Tancred said confidently.

At that moment, however, Lysander snapped from his reverie. "No, Tanc. Matron's on the prowl. Look—it's nine o'clock. We're late!"

Grabbing Tancred's limp wrist, he dragged the electric-blond boy up the flight of stairs to the boys' corridors. They hurriedly washed up, and stealthily crawled under their covers just in time.

"Lights out!" The hiss startled Clifton Carp, a third-year Drama student. He yelped and buried himself beneath his bedsheets.

The voice belonged to Matron—in other words, Lucretia Yewbeam. It was sharp, scaly and downright skin-crawling. A ghostly-white hand, bony with a clearly unhealthy pallor, snaked itself through the crack in the doorway and flicked off the light. It disappeared in the darkness, and all that could be heard was the _slam_ of the door as it shut behind Matron.

"Don't worry, Tanc," Lysander muttered. "We'll uncover the secret tomorrow."

"_Shut up_!" Clifton Carp hollered, tossing a flowery pillowcase toward Lysander and Tancred.

"Shutting."

* * *

Charlie caught up with the third-formers at breakfast the following morning.

"Tanc! Sander!"

"Morning," Tancred smiled in reply. Lysander merely waved merrily, grinning as he gobbled down his soggy oatmeal.

"Why're you both so cheery?" Charlie enquired glumly. "I'll be missing out on the fun!"

"What fun?" Lysander asked instantaneously, his head popping up. "What fun are you talking about, Charlie Bone?"

"I don't know." Charlie shrugged. "Billy and Olivia simply said, _you'll miss out on the fun!_ And all because I've landed this stupid detention with Manfred."

"So Billy knows, too?" Tancred and Lysander exchanged ponderous glances.

"What does he know?" Charlie asked, immediately intrigued. He wondered why everyone was keeping him in the dark. Were they his friends, or not? Olivia had refused to spill the secret, and Billy had mimed zipping his lips together and throwing away the key. Bewildered and impatient, Charlie had hurried to the dining hall with bile brewing in his veins.

If he had spent another second with Liv or Billy, Charlie was sure the situation would have gotten out of control. Though he was not nearly as temperamental as Tancred Torsson or Manfred Bloor, he found he had a hard time forcing down anger.

"We don't know, either," Lysander explained helplessly. "Sorry, Charlie, we really don't. Emma told us the exact same thing yesterday. And she also mentioned something about a water-ride."

"A water-ride?"

Charlie believed them. He knew Lysander and Tancred would never _lie_ to hide the truth from Charlie. If anyone could fix problems, it was he himself and his Uncle Paton. Nearly eighty percent of the time it was Charlie who found the problem, and Paton who repaired it.

"We're sorry, Charlie!" Tancred bellowed, as Charlie strolled away. He nodded, without turning back, as he made a beeline for Emma Tolly.

"Em!" Charlie halted the pretty blonde with a hand on her shoulder. She spun around, caught by surprise.

"Morning, Charlie." Emma smiled as she hastily greeted Olivia Vertigo entering the dining hall, deep in conversation with Fidelio Gunn. "Excuse me, I think Liv is expecting me."

"Wait—this will only take a second, Em," Charlie gasped. "What's the big secret?"

"What secret?" Emma giggled, flushing pink.

"The water-ride. The fun. Tanc and Sander are confused out of their _minds_!"

"Oh, that." Emma grinned, running her fingers coyly through her sleek hair as she walked away. "You'll see. You'll _all_ see."

Charlie snorted contemptuously as he returned to Tanc and Lysander. "She wouldn't tell us. But she said, _you'll see._ So I guess it can't be long until the word's out, eh?"

"I don't want to hear it from someone else!" Lysander was enraged.

Tancred nodded silently in angry agreement. "Yeah!"

"It won't be long," Charlie pleaded imploringly. "Contain it, won't you? You know, I'll bet Manfred will spill the beans in the King's Room."

Charlie was right.

"Take your seats!" Manfred Bloor barked as the students filed into the hollow, drafty chamber. Charlie squeezed into the seat by Tancred, eager to hear Manfred's announcement.

"We all know this weekend is important," Manfred began. "The Drama students are all leaving."

"Leaving?" Tancred scrambled to his feet. "_Leaving_?"

There was absolutely no way he was allowing Reid Rubix and Emma Tolly to skip away from Bloor's without a watchful eye trained on them. If the circumstances were as such, Tancred would break the rules heedlessly and pursue the pair.

He was lucky. Incredibly lucky.

"However, the Endowed will also be tagging along," Manfred grinned. Charlie didn't like the look of the grin. It was malicious, unpleasant—and contained everything that made the Headmaster's son the disliked staff member he usually was.

"Which also means I will be accompanying you." Manfred continued. "Bone, you will remain at Bloor's as intended, whilst the rest of you—and the Drama department—will be sailing off into the horizon for an entire weekend. Forty-eight hours, children, of barfing off the side of the ship, cruising through the seas, and gaining a multitude of unbecoming tan lines. There's nothing like a nice voyage on the Red Sea."

"Hear, hear," Joshua Tilpin crowed, bestowing a crooked smile on Manfred. The Headmaster's son smirked.

"The Red Sea?" Dorcas gasped. "My father's sailed on the Red Sea. He told me the name was derived from the blood in the ocean. _It may be tiny, Dorcas_, he said, _but don't underestimate its influence. I was nearly driven to kill my crew_."

Manfred's smirk widened.

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**Jacky - The voyage idea came from a dream.**

**You - Cool.**

**Jacky - I'll be using all the details of the dream in the next chapter.**

**So get ready to head down my cliffie. **

**REVIEW, PLEASE. THE FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED. **

**Thanks to everyone who did review, once again. And Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  
**


	7. Bon Voyage

**BON VOYAGE

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The ship was enormous.

"It's almost an exact replica of the original _Titanic_," Manfred Bloor boasted loudly as he mounted the deck. "Hurry up, we haven't all the time in the world!"

The students clambered after Manfred onto the ship. The ocean liner took Emma Tolly's breath away.

"It's gorgeous," she murmured. Olivia Vertigo, on her left, gave an inaudible snort.

"It's nothing," she scoffed. "I've traveled on cruisers twice this size, with twice as much _people_."

"Is that so, Olivia Vertigo?" Manfred's scornful voice cut through the salty air like a knife through butter. "Why don't you do us _all_ a favor and leave?"

Emma stepped in, irritated that the sneering boy seemed to enjoy slandering her best friend. "Manfred, as a teacher's assistant, it's your duty to feel obligated to listen to the students. And right now, we want nothing more than for you to drown."

Olivia, suffering from a fit of giggles, yanked Emma away from Manfred's glare.

"Nice one!" she commented, still choking on her laughter. "If we're lucky, we'll be bunking together."

"No," Emma sighed gloomily. "It's five to a cabin. And I already know that Torsson, Tucker, Uffelman, and Vance come between us, Liv. We could be next-door-neighbors, I suppose."

Olivia giggled again.

Distantly, a foghorn blew from the prow. Emma jumped.

"Oh! They're categorizing the cabins, Liv!" She seized Olivia's wrist and dragged the heavily-costumed girl over to the opposite end of the boat.  
Dr Bloor stood at the tiller,announcing the names of children who would be bunking together.

"Helen Basset, Charlie Bone, Idith Branko, Clifton Carp and Peter Dent in Cabin No. 2; Elaine Donner, Harvey Etton, Cora and Kenneth Fallon, and Isaiah Ghendad in Cabin No.3; the Hansen triplets, Sunraj Kahler and Kelly Lockhart in Cabin No. 4; Jason Markwy, Billy Raven, Reid Rubix, Lysander Sage and Gabriel Silk in Cabin No. 5; Makenna Simpson, Rusty Strathmore, Emma Tolly, Tancred Torsson and Quentin Tucker in Cabin No. 6; Samson Uffelman, Amelia Vance, Olivia Vertigo, Joseph and Jane Wilson in Cabin No. 7. Manfred and I will be housed in the Captain's Cabin; contact us only in urgent need. _DISPERSE!"_

The children shuffled off to their cabins. Tancred caught up with Emma at the door of Cabin No. 6.

"So we'll be bunking together," he remarked off-handedly.

Emma nodded solemnly as she heaved her duffel bag under the bed. "I guess so."

"Em, listen," Tancred sighed. "I'm sorry about what I said that afternoon at the Pets' Café. Honest."

"Okay." Tancred was the last person Emma wished to speak to at the moment. She left the room without a backward glance. Tancred sighed as he watched her exit.

Emma crossed the hall and knocked reluctantly on Cabin No. 5. She wanted to escape Tancred; she refused to return to Cabin No. 6 unless he had left. Tancred didn't like Reid, that much was obvious. If he couldn't try to adjust to her new friend, then she saw no reason why she shouldn't do the exact same to him.

"Come in." Emma entered to find Gabriel Silk unpacking his clothes. "Oh, hi, Em. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," Emma whispered, attempting a weak smile. "I just didn't really feel like talking to—to Tancred."

"I understand." Gabriel nodded resolutely as Emma stared around the cabin.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Sally Morris and Jason Markwy went to the Headmaster to complain. It seems they just can't get along with each other. Reid finished unpacking quickly; I don't know where he went. Sander—I'm quite sure he mentioned visiting Tanc."

As soon as Tancred's name left Gabriel's mouth, Emma stiffened. "He apologized about his outburst at the Pets' Café, but I'm not sure I want to accept it."

"He apologized?" Gabriel seemed surprised. "What more do you want from him, Emma?"

"I want reasons," Emma said stolidly. "Reasons, answers, incentives, attempts."

"Reasons, answers, incentives, attempts," Gabriel repeated. "What for?"

"Reasons as to why he doesn't like Reid's company. Answers that will help me understand his feelings better. Incentives—what are his motives? And lastly, can't he risk _one attempt_ at rubbing shoulders with Reid?"

Gabriel Silk knew more than he let on. He was aware of Tancred's crush on Emma, but he was also discreet and loyal. It wouldn't do to blab Tancred's secrets to the one person Gabe knew mattered most.

"Let me put it this way, Em," Gabriel offered. "If Olivia was dating Reid Rubix, I'm sure Tancred wouldn't act differently. I have a natural dislike for Joshua Tilpin, and a natural dislike for Jason Markwy. I'll bet Tancred's natural dislike is concentrated on Reid Rubix."

"Unlikely," Emma muttered, as she sauntered from the cabin.

* * *

Olivia, striding about aimlessly on deck, spotted Emma by the prow. She was chatting lightly with Billy Raven.

"Hey! Don't leave me in the dark!" Olivia laughed, as she skipped up to the pair. Billy's eyes smiled through his spectacles.

"Hi, Olivia. Emma and I were just talking about the ship. This is going to be the best weekend ever!"

"There's a gymnasium and restaurant below deck," Emma commented, as she peered over the edge of the boat. "I wish we could fish. My "foster-father", Mr Moon, brought me fishing by the river once. It was amazing."

"It's getting dark, Emma," Billy groaned. "Can we head back?"

"Sure, Billy." Emma wrapped her arm around the albino's shoulders and led him away from the prow. "Are you coming, Liv?"

"Yup!" Olivia bounded over to Emma's side, chatting up a storm. "My mother isn't going to be home at all this weekend, so I'll be able to fetch her a quick Christmas gift before the mall closes."

"Christmas!" Emma smote her forehead. "I've completely forgotten. What with the warm weather here by the Red Sea, I think the sun's driven the memory of snow out of my head. I can hardly remember the cold now."

"The Cathedral was always the coldest area of the city," Billy chirped helpfully. "I'd remember that when Charlie took me to Ingledew's every weekend. Filbert Street was quite mild, actually."

"You remember too much, Billy," Olivia giggled cheerily. "Come on, I can't see anything!"

It was true. Darkness had fallen. Emma clutched Billy and Olivia's hands tightly.

"I don't like this," Billy murmured. "It feels as though we're the only ones on deck."

"I'll bet we are," Olivia muttered. "I kind of miss Matron. I wish she were here now, to scream at us and lead us back to our cabins."

Billy nodded in agreement. Emma gulped.

"Oh gosh," she whispered. "It's completely pitch! Has anyone brought a torch?"

"It's in my cabin," Billy consented glumly. "Should we sleep out _here_, then?"

"NO!" Olivia and Emma cried in unison. Billy sighed with relief.

"We'll find our way," Emma said shakily. Come on—Olivia, reach out your hand. See if you can touch the edge of the boat."

"I can," Olivia confirmed. "I'll just follow the boat, shall I?"

Emma nodded, before remembering Olivia couldn't see her. "Yes."

"Alright, I think we're heading in the opposite direction," Olivia whined. "We'll have to head back the other way."

"But—but we were at the _prow_, and the stairs are by the stern," Billy stammered. Emma rubbed his shoulder consolingly.

"It's alright, Billy. We'll make it out of this mess."

"I wish Charlie were here," Olivia sighed. "He always knew what to do, even if it wasn't absolutely _right_."

Billy bit his lip, nodding. "Liv, you're a genius! I can see the a light."

"It's the stairs," Emma whispered in awe. "Olivia, you _are_ a genius!"

"Why would the light be on, by the staircase?" Olivia muttered. "This isn't right. No, this isn't right at all. Matron never left the light on."

Billy's jubilance was difficult to move. "But Matron isn't with us anymore!" he shouted. "Hooray! We're safe!"

"Billy!" Olivia scolded. "Be quiet. I'm trying to think."

"Come on, Liv," Emma sighed. She led Billy toward the light. "It's bound to be the stairs."

"I'm not so sure," Olivia said. "Maybe—maybe it's an illusion."

"You're the only one around who can create illusions, Liv," Billy said pointedly. "And we know it isn't you."

"I—I don't feel like walking," Olivia moaned suddenly. Emma knew her to be an astounding actress, but even Olivia couldn't pull off such a joke. And she wouldn't. Olivia knew better than to flaunt her illusionistic ability around, especially where the Bloors could be in earshot.

"Liv—are you alright?" Emma asked hesitantly, dropping Billy's hand. "I can't see you."

Unexpectedly, a glimmer of gold sparkled in front of her eyes. The flash was nearly blinding.

"Ouch! Liv, what was that?"

"It was a weakly-attempted illusion," Olivia sighed. "Can you find me now?"

"It blinded me."

"Sorry. I'll try again." Olivia mustered her strength and created an illusion of a dreary cloud. "Oops. I tried to make it glitter. Can you see the cloud?"

"I can!" Billy seized Emma's hand and raced toward Olivia. "I can see your shiny new purple shoes, too, Liv."

"Thanks, Billy," Olivia smiled. "They're a gift from my mother."

"Help her up, Billy," Emma pleaded. "I'm afraid I can't locate her. But once you've got her in your arms, I promise I'll help you carry her through to the stairs."

"The stairs!" Olivia moaned again. "I'm not sure I'd really like to walk down that path."

Emma groaned. "Olivia, please. Billy, pay attention. Can you lift her?"

Billy eyed Olivia doubtfully. "I can try, but you'll have to help me with the dragging."

"What dragging?" Olivia snapped. "I refuse to allow myself to be _dragged_ like a lame animal."

"We won't _drag_ her, Billy," Emma amended quickly. "We'll just be carrying her over to the stairs, and I'll see her to her cabin. It's right next to mine, as it is."

"Alright then." With much difficulty and perseverance, Billy managed to hoist Olivia from the ground. He heaved her limp, semiconscious body over to where Emma stood.

Emma grabbed Olivia's skinny ankles and lifted her surely into the air. "Come on, Billy, just follow the light."

Stars had begun to appear when Billy and Emma, Olivia between their arms, reached the staircase.

"I do wonder, though, why the light has been left on," Emma muttered absently. Billy nodded.

"I agree. But it's our only hope now, and I don't think Olivia could create an illusion with the strength she's got left."

Emma knew Billy was being logical, but Olivia could be sneaky. Besides the fact that she was a brilliant actor, and always one for the melodrama, her best friend _loved_ to pull pranks and play practical jokes.

"Well, let's not linger," Emma insisted. "I'll head backward down the stairs, and you can follow. That way, if I trip, it'll be easier for me to catch Liv again."

"Right," Billy said nervously, as he took a shaky step forward.

Down.

_Down_.

_DOWN_.

"Em, I'm scared."

"There's nothing to be—" Emma couldn't help uttering a soft scream. She had fallen on a missing step, and Billy had panicked.

"Emma? Are you still there? Olivia! _Olivia_?"

"I've still got her, Billy," Emma said apologetically. "I'm sorry; my fault entirely. The light's on; I shouldn't have missed that step. I'll try to be more careful, shall I?"

Billy huffed a sigh of relief. Something on the bottom of the stairs caught his eye.

"Em ... watch out, okay? There's something by the bottom of the staircase."

Emma nodded. The landing below appeared to be abandoned. _All the students must be in bed by now_, she reasoned.

She was wrong.

Emma tripped over the "thing" at the bottom of the stairs as she descended from the last step. She turned to examine the guilty object.

She nearly screamed.

She nearly dropped Olivia.

She nearly fainted.

She nearly threw up.

She nearly fell over.

She nearly cried.

She screamed. _Loud_.

* * *

**Jacky - AAAAAAAHHH!**

**You - What? What?!**

**_!!!!!_**

**[you'll have to wait and see. no hinties.]**

**ps. this chapter was based on a nightmare i had two nights ago. **

**i didn't scream, but i was in a trauma shock for three straight hours afterward.**

**it just stuck there, in my head. the strangest feeling of déja vu. **

**much like a horror movie replaying over and over and _over_ in your mind.... EEEE.  
**


	8. Ghost:ACM

**Jacky: Review Please! _FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM WILL NOT BE OVERLOOKED._  
**

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**GHOST: ACM**

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Tancred leapt from his bed.

Kicking off the bedsheets with his feet, Tancred swung out into the hallway in his old green sweater and boxers, his woolly socks soaking as he glided through the crowd with ease.

"What's going on?" he gasped, as Lysander emerged from Cabin No. 5, Gabriel Silk and Jason Markwy on his tail.

"I don't know," Lysander replied, taken aback. "I heard a scream."

"We all did," Jason grumbled, flattening the wrinkles and creases from his brand-new striped pajamas. "That was loud!"

Gabriel nodded with agreement. "Even May can't even scream _that_ loud!"

"That's saying something," Lysander grinned.

"C'mon, let's see if we can make it up to the front," Tancred urged, seizing Lysander's wrist. Lysander grabbed Jason's wrist, who in turn motioned for Gabriel to join the chain-train.

The boys lurched their way painfully up to the inner edge of the pack, receiving a multitude of indignant shouts and threats along the way as they pushed and shoved up to the scene of the crime.

Emma Tolly stood, absolutely stricken, alongside Billy Raven. The two were supporting an unconscious Olivia Vertigo in their arms.

Tancred scowled as he noticed Reid Rubix. Emma, her impossibly-straight, sleek blond hair was tucked beneath a woolly sleeping cap. She wore a T-shirt and spotted pajama pants. Tancred's eyes, as they traveled down her outfit, hit home.

Her fingers were loosely intertwined with Reid's; his scowl deepened.

But Tancred's anger vanished the moment his eyes found the object of attention.

"It's Clifton Carp!" Tancred flinched at the speaker's shrill voice, but he leaned in closer, whispers tickling his ears.

Clifton Carp, the mousy-haired, jeering jokester from Cabin No. 1 lay motionless, and Tancred was willing to bet _lifeless_ even, on the wooden ground. His pajamas were drenched with the murky water that had surreptitiously washed aboard, and his eyes were open wide, as though taken by surprise.

"He's DEAD!" Jane Wilson's sharp voice cut through the still air, breaking off the whispers and hushed gasps. "Clifton Carp is _dead_! And you've killed him!" Her forefinger was directed at Emma Tolly.

"Leave her alone!" Tancred shouted, against his own will. "She never killed him; I know she wouldn't!"

Emma shot Tancred a grateful, weak smile and he felt his stomach flip. But he forced himself to maintain a straight, unbendable face and kept his gaze on Jane Wilson.

"He's dead, and she was with him," Jane reasoned, in between gasps. The crowd had fallen silent. "Billy Raven is too young to know anything, and Olivia Vertigo is out cold! _My_ guess is that Clifton Carp hurt Olivia, and Emma lost control."

Before Tancred could utter another heroic retort in Emma's defense, Reid Rubix stepped in, his hand still clutching Emma's.

"Hey! Don't talk to Tancred that way! No one wants your assumptions, Wilson. We're all one-hundred-percent sure Emma didn't kill Clifton Carp."

Tancred felt obligated to smile at Reid. The kid returned the smile with a shrug, a grin and a thumbs-up.

Tancred sighed. Why did Reid have to complicate matters? Reid was friendly, relaxed, and his heart was in the right place. Why couldn't he slip up for one moment? Why couldn't Reid Rubix have two left feet, or a loose-hinged tongue?

"What's going on?" Manfred Bloor's cold drawl interrupted as the Headmaster's son, accompanied by Dr Bloor himself, stepped into the empty ring where Clifton Carp's body rested.

He seemed to understand the issue immediately. He glanced hurriedly at his father, who nodded resolutely, and turned back to face the students.

"Who did this?" Although Manfred was clearly trying his hardest to remain a calm resolve, his voice shook. Tancred felt a shiver course through his veins, and he couldn't help shuddering as Manfred overlooked the scene with distaste and a hint of horror.

"Emma Tolly did," Jane Wilson leered. "She and Billy Raven were here, with Olivia Vertigo. It seems Olivia fainted. Billy's too young to know a thing. There are no other options for Emma, sir."

"Jane," Reid snapped, leaning forward to stare at the frowning girl, "_You_ have another option."

"What are you talking about?" Jane scowled.

"Shut the hell up."

"_ENOUGH_!" Dr Bloor's chilling voice startled Tancred. "Emma Tolly, you are proven innocent until further notice. As for the actions taken by the Admin, you will _all_ be questioned on the murder. It's for security issues, and no inquiries can be delayed. Appointments will be made, and you will attend. Goodnight. Manfred, ask Shawn Leopold to dispose of the body. Mr and Mrs Carp will be notified."

Mr Leopold, the well-loved janitor and long-time caretaker of the kids and halls of Bloor's Academy, had apparently tagged along on the cruise. He bagged the carcass and dropped Clifton Carp into the garbage bin attached to the cleaning cart he carried around twenty-four/seven, unperturbed. He steered it away, winking and waving to the children as they filed back into their cabins.

Tancred avoided Emma's eye as she followed him into the cabin.

* * *

Olivia Vertigo awoke to the fresh scent of newly-cleaned white linen sheets.

She was lying on a pristine bed, her hair mussed and mousy-brown once again. She assumed the nurse, Mrs Firth, had washed the raccoon-tails from her hair. Sighing, Olivia propped herself up on her two elbows, leaning against the wall as she surveyed the room.

She had never been _here_ before. The ship's Infirmary was a large, tidy room with sorted shelves and labeled boxes. Everything was neat and organized. Charlie wouldn't have liked this room.

A cart preceded Mrs Firth into the room as she entered. She was a squat, portly lady with red-orange hair tucked messily beneath a hairnet. Her outfit was simple and spotless, latex gloves stretched across each palm.

Mrs Firth scrutinized Olivia with a beady eye. Her face, completely uncalled for, broke into a wide smile.

"You look absolutely _fine_, Olivia, darling," Mrs Firth crowed. "You're free to go!"

Olivia mumbled her thanks as she darted from the Infirmary. Back into the muddy corridors of below-deck, Olivia sprinted to her cabin to find Amelia Vance sulking in the corner.

"What's up, Amy?"

Amelia Vance looked up, surprised. "Oh, hello, Olivia. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine. What's been going on? I don't remember a thing."

Amelia Vance refreshed Olivia's memory, beginning from her stroll with Billy Raven and Emma on deck the previous night. She explained how Emma had inconveniently stumbled upon the dead carcass of Clifton Carp with a smirk.

"You think Emma killed him, too?" Olivia shrieked. "Emma would _never_ do such a thing!"

"Whatever," Amelia Vance shrugged. "It's not up to me to decide that. It's up to the security guards. They've been patrolling the hallways all morning; Dr Bloor is forcing the students to schedule appointments with the guards. Inquiries have to be made."

"That's bunk!" Olivia screamed. "They can't possibly think—I'll convince them—I'm a good actress, they _have_ to believe that Emma didn't do it! Billy would know; I have to go find Billy!"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," Amelia Vance sneered. She reached into the bedside cabinet and withdrew a slim knife. "Emma Tolly killed Clifton Carp. Nobody wants a murderer aboard, Olivia. You'll just have to endure the punishment."

"What punishment?" Olivia breathed, inching toward the door.

"Not a punishment," Amelia hissed in what she considered to be a reassuring tone. "It's more of a reward. It's time, Olivia Vertigo, to reap your reward. You've been a very bad girl."

"Amy—this isn't like you—what—why are you—?" Olivia fumbled with her words as she staggered backward.

"My apologies, Olivia," Amelia leered. "But nobody must know Emma Tolly was innocent."

Amelia advanced. Olivia gasped.

Emma Tolly, Fidelio right behind her, strode into the cabin. "Olivia, Mrs Firth told me you're free now. How do you feel?"

Fidelio nudged Emma in the back sharply. Emma glanced upward to see the puny, dwarf-sized Amelia Vance tickling Olivia's throat with a knifepoint. Gasping, Emma hurried forward, oblivious to Fidelio's protests.

"Em! Get back here!" Fidelio raced down the hall, looking for an open cabin. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone had already left for morning brunch on deck.

He rammed on the nearby cabins, hoping beyond hope someone would be late. He was lucky. Tancred Torsson opened his door with confusion and anger.

"What do you want, Fidelio?"

"It's Olivia—and Amelia Vance," Fidelio gasped, leaning against the doorframe.

"What about them?" Tancred asked, unamused. "Are they bickering?"

"More than that," Fidelio panted. "It's Emma, she—"

Tancred was heading for Olivia's cabin in seconds. They burst into the room, but it seemed as though the problem had resolved itself.

Amelia was rocking on her heels, her eyes wide with anxiety and her hands pressed to her mouth. She seemed to be suffering from shock, and the expression on her face was one of pure worry and apology.

"I'm sorry, Olivia, I'm not sure what exactly came over me and—"

Olivia perched by her bedpost. Emma, directly below her best friend, sat on the ground, her hand held to her cheek. Fidelio noticed immediately the color change and difference. Her left cheek, flattened by her palm, was unbelievably pale. The other, in contrast, appeared to be utterly flushed.

"What's going on?" Tancred muttered, lightly removing Emma's hand from her face. An enormous, bloody gash occupied much of Emma's left cheek. Her palm was caked with the fresh blood she had been trying to hold in.

"Let's get you down to the nurse," Fidelio suggested.

"_NO!"_ Amelia screamed. "Mrs Firth will ask who did it. Please."

"Amelia, this was all _your_ fault," Olivia countered. "Why don't you endure your _own_ punishment, and reap your _own_ reward?"

"Because—because that wasn't me," Amelia stuttered. "I swear. Please. You have to believe me. It was controlling me; I couldn't help it!"

"I believe you," Emma whispered from the corner. Tancred raised his eyebrows.

"Em, she nearly—"

"I don't care what she did," Emma said, grimacing as she stood. "She's repenting."

Tancred felt anger surge once more through his body, but Fidelio shot him a warning glare and a sharp nudge. He nodded stiffly, following suit as the three girls headed onto deck for a spot of late brunch.

"Emma Tolly, Olivia Vertigo, Amelia Vance, Tancred Torsson and Fidelio Gunn," Dr Bloor rumbled, causing all heads to turn in their direction. "Where in the _heck_ of the entire Red Sea have you five been?"

His eyes narrowed at the sight of Emma's bloody gash. Nobody spoke. No one dared _breathe_.

"Well?" Dr Bloor snorted. "I'm waiting. Isn't anyone going to tell me?"

"Olivia and I broke the bedpost, sir," Amelia Vance invented wildly. "Emma came to help, and when she couldn't fix it she called for Fidelio, who was in the bathroom. Tancred was waiting to use the bathroom so he came to help as well."

Olivia couldn't hide the fact that she was impressed. Amelia could lie nearly as convincingly as she herself could.

Dr Bloor contemplated this explanation. "That would explain this," he mused, "and then some. Now, hurry and grab some brunch; we're preparing for the Roundaboat game."

"You mean Rounda_bout_, sir," Fidelio corrected politely. Dr Bloor shook his head.

"No, I meant what I said, Gunn," he snapped. "It's a boat game, where you tell stories one by one round the circle. Stories, legends and tales appropriate for our setting. Manfred, begin."

"Have you all heard of the Flying Dutchman?" Manfred growled ominously, but only titters and snickers greeted his question.

"YES!" the crowd roared. Manfred shrugged nonchalantly toward his father.

"Sorry, Father, I haven't any other seaworthy legend to tell of. Your turn."

Dr Bloor shuddered. His eyes rolled around in his head, displaying the red-veined whites. Emma shivered at the sight, as Dr Bloor's eyes reversed themselves to their normal position.

"Sorry about that, children," Dr Bloor amended. "Something took over. But I have an entertaining tale I'd like to share. It's short, yet to the point. It's a little history lesson for all of you. The name of this ship, as you well know, is _Indigo_, but long ago, even before Manfred here was _born_, it was _The Woindigo_. The "O" in the name was a natural mistake. It's supposed to be the "Windigo". Not many of you know of the Windigo, a mythical spirit that possesses humans. The ship's customers soon became consumed with cannibalism, the very effect of the Windigo's possession. Soon, the Captain ate his first mate, the second-in-command, and then he lunged for his sailors. Eventually, pandemonium erupted. So, everyone was killed but the Captain. The Windigo, sensing that his work was done, left the Captain's body. The Captain was too weak to live. But the Windigo, as it sailed through the air hungrily to find another ship to feed upon, carried with it the evil spirits and souls of the first mate, the second-in-command, and et cetera. The Captain, energized and newly refreshed, survived. He remembered everything now: the malicious Windigo, the feelings, his age, his whereabouts, and his name."

"Excuse me, sir," Helen Basset interrupted, "what was the Captain's name?"

"Some people say it was Alistair Carter Malone, or André Carlow Mase. All they knew was that he went by the alias of ACM," Dr Bloor continued. He recoiled, as though struck in the head with an invisible fist. "Some people even go so far as to label the Captain as a female."

Dorcas Loom hissed. Everyone knew her to be a reactively large feminist.

"Anyhow, the legend has lived on. Many believe her spirits continue to roam the hallowed halls of this creaky ship. The letters THEWO were removed from the title to become _Indigo_, and that's how our ship received its name today."

A foghorn blew in the distance. Manfred leapt to his feet.

"Father, it's getting late. The students should be in bed by now."

Dr Bloor came to, snapping from his reverie with a painful crack of his neck. "Wha—oh, you're right, Manfred. Absolutely. _DISPERSE_!"

The children filed toward the staircase, and Emma followed with reluctance, lost in thought as she allowed Billy to guide her semiconscious self through the hallway down to her cabin.

"Goodnight, Billy," Emma murmured absently. Billy smiled as he turned to his cabin.

"Goodnight, Em."

Emma entered the cabin, gazing around at the yawning faces with wonder and incomprehension. She felt as though she were simply in the wrong place—but at the right time. Where then, should she be?

Emma turned around, glancing down the corridors thoughtfully. She glimpsed a tall, slim figure by the foot of the stairs. What would Manfred Bloor do if he caught her out of bed?

Emma wanted to race back into the cabin, but again that sense of misplacement struck her. She took a slow, shaky step, repetitively until she had reached the front of the landing below the stairwell. The figure was not Manfred Bloor.

She gasped.

"Tracy Morsell?" Emma whispered, eyes widening in disbelief. Her wavy, blond hair rippled down her back; her grey eyes were cold, her smile unpleasantly smug, and her stare was unnerving.

"Hello, Emma Tolly," Tracy muttered icily, scowling. "What're _you_ doing on this cruise ship, in the same cabin as Tancred Torsson?"

"Tracy, need I remind you that I don't _like_ Tancred anymore?" Emma said exasperatedly. "I don't exactly have a _boyfriend_, but I have a boy who cares enough about me to make up for the disappointment Tancred gave me."

"Tancred upset you?" Tracy seemed bored. "He wasn't meant for you, Emma Tolly. His cold heart and evil ways are to be matched with a girl like me."

"Which reminds me—why are _you_ on this ship?" Emma snapped. Tracy grinned, showing her teeth with menace and deliberation.

"It's my endowment, Emma," Tracy smirked. "Manipulation. I controlled the coast guard to allow me passage on the ship. I controlled Clifton Carp, and forced him to commit suicide so you would be returned to the Academy, sent far away from Tancred. I controlled Amelia Vance, to hurt Olivia, to provoke you."

Tracy's smirk widened as she surveyed Emma's gash. It had dried, but a ropy scar had replaced the blood. Emma didn't know which was more unsightly.

"And lastly," Tracy resumed, "I controlled Dr Bloor. You might have noticed a few contrivances the Headmaster seemingly overcame. I had to punish him for that sexist Captain remark."

"What—What do you mean?" Emma stammered, taking a step backward. Tracy chuckled.

"Clueless as ever, the endowed are," Tracy sneered. "Anyhow, I invented the legend of this boat. The Captain's ghost, ACM, that's actually me. It's to warn each and every single passenger that I'm here, always watching."

"You're TM, not ACM," Emma corrected.

Tracy mimicked the sound of a game show buzzer. Emma recognized the noise. It meant she was incorrect.

"My given name was Attracea Candace Morsell. Ah-Trace-Ee-Ah—what an ugly name! I shortened it to Tracy the moment I switched schools."

"What did those letters THEWO mean?" Emma asked, suddenly curious. "I mean, they were in the story for a _reason_, right?"

"Maybe not so clueless after all." Tracy seemed satisfied. "It's an acronym for _Tracy's Here, Emma—Watch Out!_"

Emma screamed. Tracy lunged.

Emma managed to grab the back of Tracy's purple collar. She held on tight as the wild third-year spun round in circles. At last, the tiny fragment of fabric Emma was clutching on for dear life separated from Tracy's purple shirt, and Emma was flung to the ground. The moment her head met the wooden floor, Emma opened her eyes.

She was in bed, beneath the sheets. Her forehead had merely collided with the backboard of her bed.

Had it all been a bad dream?

Rubbing a new goose-egg deep within her veil of untidy blond hair, Emma opened her fist. A fragment of purple cloth sat between heavily-clenched fingers, as though freshly torn from its owner.

Emma squinted closely at the fragment. Could it be real? Tiny letters were forming on the fabric.

_T ... H ... E ... W ... O ... _

Emma screamed.

* * *

**Jacky: PLEASE REVIEW. I'd like to know what you all thought.**

**You: Uhm....**

**Jacky: Look back to where Emma first encountered Tracy. Her second sentence, mentioning an unidentified boy, is about Reid.**

**You: I figured. **

**Jacky: Hintie- AANKH. it's false. nada. untrue. wrong. I'll explain next chapter. Meanwhile, Please Review.**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR.  
**


	9. Laughily

**LAUGHILY

* * *

**

Emma's breathing was heavy as she swung her feet out of bed.

Tancred had been roused from his sleep by her scream. Ruffling his hair, he peered over the other heads in her direction. Nobody else seemed to have heard.

"Em? What's the matter now?"

Emma drew in her breath sharply. He had said _now_. He was tired; annoyed that she had so many problems that involved him. Not only was she angry with him for being selfish, incompetent and shallow, she was also guilty. Her conscience was speaking up; she was a burden to all her friends.

"N-Nothing," Emma stuttered, sliding her feet into a pair of cozy faux fur slippers. The warmth of the slippers brought a smile to her lips. Emma crept down the corridor, hoping to find Tracy. She needed to talk.

Instead, she found Reid Rubix. He was not alone.

She decided to remain hidden for the time being. Swallowed by shadows, Emma tiptoed along the hallway, keeping her body pressed discreetly to the wall.

Reid appeared to be with a girl. He was snogging her, Emma realized. She was so upset she couldn't breathe. Fortunately, this prevented Emma from gasping with bemusement and blowing her cover.

How could Reid do this to her? She had considered him to be her knight in shining armor, the prince who would arrive to carry her away on his brilliant white warhorse. And now, his betrayal stung like a stab wound in her heart.

She stole quietly closer, unable to back away and erase the memory. She was not one to rationalize with herself.

"Reid?" she called softly, fighting to keep her voice low. "What are you _doing_?"

Reid leapt away from the other girl as though he were burned. "Emma!"

"Care to elaborate?" Emma asked coldly, hands on hips. "Or would you like me to dump you here and now?"

"You were _cheating_ on me?" The other girl, a third-former named Liz Thornton, folded her arms across her chest and glared at Reid. He took a step back.

"No—I wasn't cheating on you. And I wasn't cheating on _you_, either," he hurriedly amended, turning to Emma. "The problem is, I'm endowed."

Emma's angry words caught in her throat. Tancred had been right.

"I absorb other's abilities. If a Child of the Red King comes between spitting distance of me, I'll be able to do exactly what they can. And—and now that your endowment is _love_, I couldn't help but return it. It was—inevitable, Emma."

Emma couldn't speak. Liz Thornton, who Lysander often spoke scornfully of, wrapped her arms around Reid from behind, smirking spitefully toward Emma.

She backed slowly down the corridor, her eyes locked fixedly on Reid. She took a deep breath and turned into her cabin without a backward glance, ignoring Tancred's question of, "Emma? Where were you?"

The moment Emma returned to the room, she began to repack her bag. She didn't seal the zipper. The noise would have affirmatively awoken Tancred, who would obviously disapprove of her intentions.

She was going to run away.

Run away and hide—forever. From the Bloors, from her friends, and from her endowment. She would never again succumb to _love_. She would never again succumb to anything less than pure genuine.

"Emma, you can't leave." Reid was still in the hallway when Emma slipped out of Cabin No. 6. "I know I've upset you, and I know you're disappointed. But please don't run away. Rethink your actions—please."

"You don't know what you're asking me to do," Emma said coldly, not meeting his eyes as she sidestepped the blond boy. "You're asking too much."

She was a burden to her friends—just another weight on their shoulders. Nobody could support her for much longer unless she received enough time to pull herself together. She needed the time away from the people she loved to compensate.

"I'm sorry, Reid. Goodbye."

Emma stole away.

* * *

Fidelio Gunn shot Olivia a grin from across the table.

Olivia felt a shiver of honey-chocolate warmth course through her body. Her heart was hammering at her chest at an alarming rate, and a thunderous migraine was controlling her mind. But Olivia ignored all these distractions and sent a flirtatious smile in turn.

"I wish Charlie were here," Tancred muttered as he took the seat beside Olivia. "He could fix this."

"Well," Olivia mused, still distracted, "you'll be seeing him later this afternoon. The Captain's already turned the boat around. It'll take nary an hour and we'll be home!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tancred murmured, shoving his offered plate of bacon and eggs away.

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked, munching dreamily on her bacon. "What's happened _now_, Tancred Torsson?"

"Well—it's Emma."

Olivia raised an eyebrow as a signal to continue.

"She's—she's run away. I can't find her anywhere; her luggage is gone. But I'm sure something happened last night. She screamed, and I figured it was a nightmare. So she told me to _go back to bed_, and I tried. But I couldn't. I noticed her stealing out of the cabin, and was tempted to follow."

"Why didn't you, Doofus?" Olivia shouted, as she smote Tancred's arm. "I don't care if your conscience told you otherwise; it's _Emma_!"

"I—I just couldn't," Tancred muttered, avoiding Olivia's narrowed eyes. "So I heard a heated discussion outside, and stayed under the covers. I decided I didn't _want_ to hear it. They were having a row, I'll bet, because Emma returned, packed her bag, and left afterward."

"Who was having a row with Emma?" Olivia questioned, leaning in.

Tancred shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"_We_ were having a row." Olivia and Tancred glanced up, startled. Reid Rubix, his breakfast tray balanced shakily on one hand, was far from occupied. A single glass of orange juice and half a slice of toast acted as his meal. His haggard face betrayed disappointment.

"Emma caught me snogging Liz Thornton," Reid explained. He confided in Olivia and Tancred, sharing the secret of his endowment and how it had worked when Emma fell in love. "If I was by Emma when she fell in love with another guy, such as Lysander, perhaps, _I_ would fall in love with him as well."

"That's creepy," Tancred murmured.

"That's _gay_," Olivia blurted, loudly enough that her words could be heard from the other end of the table.

"Well, yeah." Reid reddened. "So you see my point. Emma became upset and left. I tried to stop her. She wouldn't listen. She told me I was asking too much when I begged for her to reconsider. She wouldn't listen," he repeated morosely.

"You never liked her at all!" Tancred shouted triumphantly. "You were always there, _pretending_. I knew you hid something, Reid Rubix!"

Reid merely walked away, but Olivia couldn't miss the expression on his face. Was it loss? Pain? Pity?

"Tancred, Reid couldn't help it." Olivia didn't know exactly _why_ she was siding with the boy who had broken Emma's heart, but all she knew was that she couldn't stand by and let Reid's remorse eat himself up.

Her ruse worked. Reid flashed a grateful smile over his shoulder as he strolled over to Liz Thornton's table.

"We've got to find Emma," Tancred said immediately.

Olivia nodded. "Our number one priority," she agreed resolutely. "Let's begin when we dock back at the city."

Tancred shook his head. "No. I don't care about you, but in an hour and a half, it might be too late. I'm leaving, _now_."

Olivia's jaw dropped. "You cannot be serious about this. Where would you look?"

"Ingledew's. Or the park. Anywhere Emma Tolly would go for peace. And fortunately, I know her well enough to know where those places are."

Tancred began to saunter away. Olivia caught his arm desperately.

"Tancred, you _can't do this_!"

Tancred yanked away from her grip. "Watch me."

* * *

Emma Tolly was grateful for her wings. She'd been able to pile on three quarters of her clothes and possessions onto her body in order for the bag that she would sling around her bird's neck to be lightweight and buoyant. She could never have swam back to the city with merely her weary arms and frail body.

Now, her bag was practically empty, containing only a thin shirt she had been unable to find room for on herself. She spread her strong, sturdy condor's wings and took flight, soaring above the gaseous clouds so her bag would not be spotted by curious birdwatchers.

She knew exactly where she was headed.

Emma landed neatly on the soft grass behind a park bench. Hidden, Emma transformed into her human self, removing the bag. She could feel the stings and burns on her neck from where the bag's strap had dug into.

She crawled into sight, resuming a casual position on the park bench as she fell under pretense of tying her shoelaces. Passersby didn't give her a second glance, and Emma felt certain that nobody could find her.

She was wrong.

A tap on her shoulder caused her to drop her shoelaces and spin around. Completely caught off-guard, Emma nearly fell off the bench. Teetering on the edge, her eyes widened as recognition dawned.

Why was she staring at Tancred Torsson?

"Tancred?" she frowned.

"Hey, Em," Tancred said, smiling broadly as he took the seat beside her. "Why did you leave?"

"I—" Emma inhaled sharply. "Why did _you_ leave?"

"I stole a lifeboat from the ship," Tancred said, grinning widely. "I wanted to follow you—to make sure you were ... alright."

"I am. I am, now. I just needed a bit of time to myself."

"Don't kid yourself; you've only been here a few seconds," Tancred muttered. "I've been—well, I've been watching."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry. But I know you're not okay."

"I am. I told you, I just needed several moments to myself."

"That wasn't _several moments_," Tancred smirked. "That was—what? One."

"Well," Emma said, smiling now, "perhaps I'm feeling better because you're here."

"What?" Taken by surprise, it was Tancred's turn to teeter on the edge of the bench. "Oh, I mean—wait—did you—are you—Emma, I—"

Emma's smile broke into a fully-fledged grin. Her eyes were bright.

"I'm feeling ambitious."

She reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Still grinning, she tipped her forehead to his, finally allowing her smile to diminish until her lips would connect with Tancred's as though they were two puzzle pieces purposely made to fit together. And they did.

She suppressed another smile when she felt Tancred pull her closer. She broke away, happier than ever.

"I really, really like you, Tancred," she murmured, breathless.

"What can I say?" Tancred said, winking. "Ditto."

Emma laughed lightly as he pulled her toward him again.

"How do you feel now?" Tancred asked, following another kiss.

"Like I've just experienced my happily-ever-after," Emma giggled. "But it's more of a—_laughily_-ever-after."

Tancred mimed a mockingly thoughtful expression. "You know, Em," he said, after a pause, "I _should_ say that you can't run away from your problems. But at the moment, I think running away was the best choice you ever made."

Emma laughed.

* * *

Julia Ingledew waltzed happily around the bookshop, helping the customers. She had never felt better.

She couldn't wait for Emma to return. The second her niece returned, the news would break. She could almost see Emma's reaction.

Julia's spirit dwindled. What if Emma became spiteful? Would she become envious, or jealous? She was so used to Julia's pampering, it would be hard to adjust to change and difference. Julia knew the feeling well. From normal, low-class bookseller to the girlfriend of the Children of the Red King's personal consultant, Charlie's Uncle Paton Yewbeam, Julia sometimes felt slightly overwhelmed with all the continuous dilemmas and situations Charlie brought upon her niece.

As Julia ushered the customers outdoors and swapped the sign to read _Sorry, we're CLOSED_, she noticed a pretty blonde girl straying up the path by the Cathedral. Squinting out the window, she recognized Emma.

"Emma?" Julia opened the door, beckoning to her niece. "_Emma! Come_!"

Emma came. She darted toward her aunt, embracing her tightly around the waist as hard as she could. Julia felt the air exit her body, but she breathlessly greeted Emma with equal joy.

"Oh my goodness, I just can't _believe_ you're back! Wait until you hear the terrific news."

"What news?" Emma took a tentative step back.

_What a darling,_ Julia thought, _she suspects something's wrong_.

"No, nothing's wrong," Julia amended quickly. "Paton—I mean, Mr Yewbeam—and I are planning to adopt a boy."

"Is it Billy?" Emma asked hurriedly.

"No, the Bloors would never give us the dear child," Julia apologized. "It's a boy from the adoption agency; he'll be spending much more time here at the bookshop. We figured it's time to buckle up and begin driving in the same car."

"You mean, learn to live together," Emma said suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"Emma, we're adopting!" Julia could hardly contain her excitement.

"I know that's not all," Emma frowned. "Auntie, you can't fool me. _Tell me_!"

Julia giggled. She extended her hand.

On her fourth finger sparkled a bright ruby, flanked with diamonds and a crystal-studded, pure gold frame. Emma gasped.

"You're _engaged_?" She flew forward and hugged Julia elatedly. "CONGRATULATIONS!"

Julia laughed. "I've finally found my happily-ever-after, Emma."

Emma shook her head as an image of a blond boy entered her mind. "No ... you've found your _laughily-_ever-after."

* * *

**Jacky: Ahw, Julia's getting married. It's always been my dream to create the ultimate wedding/ring for Julia and Paton.**

**You: Hooray for JuliaxPaton pairing!**

**Jacky: NOTE - THIS IS STILL INCOMPLETE. I wish you all a Happy New Year, if I don't post again. **

**Please Review! : )  
**


	10. Foster

**FOSTER

* * *

**

Charlie Bone ruffled his black hair as he trudged down the stairwell to the kitchen.

"Morning, Mum," he smiled, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he slid into an empty seat beside his Uncle Paton.

"Good morning, dear," Amy Bone trilled, giggling as she watched her son stifle a yawn. "Would you like your eggs scrambled, over-easy or sunny-side-up?"

"How about _burnt_?" Grandma Bone spat as she entered the kitchen.

"Always the negative magnet, Grizelda," Uncle Paton chuckled as he folded away his newspaper. "I'll have over-easy, Amy."

"No problem, Paton," Amy sang, slipping a pair of eggs onto his plate. "Charlie?"

"Me too, please. Why're you so cheerful, Mum?"

"Well, your friends are back from the voyage. I figured it'd do good for _all_ of us if you stopped moping about the house."

"Yes," Grandma Bone agreed fervently. "Good for _all_ of us to be rid of this stupid rat. Go, Charlie, and never come back!"

She cackled, viciously stabbing an egg with her fork. Her cackle grew to a rough, bark-hard laugh as she began to tear apart the yolk as if she were a vulture pecking at its carrion.

Charlie frowned. "Maybe I _enjoy_ being apathetic."

Uncle Paton chortled. "Gabriel telephoned early this morning. He'd like you to meet the gang by the Pets' Café somewhere by noontime."

Charlie nodded. "Thanks. How did your proposal turn out, Uncle P?"

Amy and Grizelda glanced up. "_What_?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows furtively toward his uncle, who nodded wearily. "Uncle Paton's proposed to Miss Ingledew," he announced happily.

"Congratulations, Paton!" Amy crowed, clapping her hands with glee. "Will it be a _large_ wedding? I've got the perfect gown to lend Julia—oh, this will be like treating the daughter I never had to her wedding..."

"Hey!" Charlie protested in mock indignation. "Aren't I good enough to make up for this _daughter you never had_?"

Amy laughed.

"Terrific," Grandma Bone grouched. "Yet another endowed to enter the family. Before you know it, Yewbeams will be no more."

"Hooray," Charlie muttered.

"Don't you worry, Grizelda," Paton grinned. "I'm a Yewbeam, remember? Julia will be Julia Ingledew-Yewbeam, and we've decided to adopt."

"An endowed boy?" Grizelda's eyes lit up like candles in a dark pool. "This will be interesting."

"Now, Grizelda," Paton warned as he peered over the top of his paper, "I'd like to know if any evil schemes come to mind; please notify me beforehand."

Grandma Bone snorted. "Dream on, Paton."

She left the room, heels clicking as she mounted the stairs.

"She's got her sights set on your soon-to-be son, Paton?" Amy gasped.

"No," Paton growled. "I'd know my own sister well enough for that. She's aiming for Charlie and his friends. She's plotting something to remove them temporarily from Bloor's. You could catch the plan if you paid _very close attention_."

Charlie couldn't recall a thing that mentioned him at all, but he shrugged. Uncle Paton had his means.

"Well, I'm off to the Pets' Café now, in large hopes that Grandma Bone won't do anything drastic," Charlie grimaced, grabbing a donut as he headed out the door. "I'll bet the gang is waiting."

He ran down Frog Street with Runner on his heels. Benjamin and the Browns were still in Nebraska on the Case of the Stolen Fish, and Runner Bean within a whistle's reach was incredibly helpful, especially when he was due at the Pets' Café at urgent notice. This way, he didn't have to check in with Benjamin each time he needed a pet.

Charlie greeted his friends as he made his way toward the far table.

"Hi; I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's alright," Emma grinned. "Have you heard the news, Charlie?"

Charlie returned the grin as he nodded. Nobody else smiled.

"_What's going on_?" Olivia shrieked, causing Mrs Onimous to hiss, "Shh!" from the corner.

Charlie told them. Olivia began to clap and scream, while Tancred and Lysander merely mumbled their congratulations.

"The adoption's arrived," Emma informed Charlie. "Aunt Julia picked him up by the agency only hours ago. His name is Seth Mickey Prowse, and he's only about ten years old."

"Three years younger than us," Olivia mused. "He sounds cute."

"Dark brown curls, large eyes, cute cheeks and freckles," Emma giggled. "He's a darling!"

Tancred rolled his eyes.

"Is he endowed?" Charlie cautioned.

Emma nodded eagerly. "Seth can morph. It's amazing, the way he describes it."

"Listen, Grandma Bone's on the prowl. You should have seen her eyes and how they lit up when Paton told her of the endowed adoption. She's after him, and she's after _us_."

"What else is new?" Lysander smirked. "It's always your family, Charlie."

"Don't blame Charlie!" Gabriel demanded. "It's not _his_ fault his Aunts were overtaken by the Darkly Wynd influence. My Uncle, the one I visited not so long ago, was once quite a jolly good fellow. And now, he's pure _evil_!"

"I wasn't blaming Charlie," Lysander chuckled. "I was making a joke. But what does she want out of us, Charlie?"

"She didn't say."

"Well, obviously, Sander," Tancred said, raising his eyebrows, "I'd be willing to pay you ten quid the day you catch an evil plotter who tells you all her reasons and motives for scheming against her arch-rival."

"Grandma Bone's loose," Charlie muttered lowly. "That's all I'm saying."

Emma stood up abruptly. "I have to leave."

"So soon?" Tancred seemed surprised. "Charlie only just got here."

"And I only just remembered something," Emma frowned. "Charlie, would you like to follow me?"

"Sure." Charlie allowed his wrist to be seized and led from the café. He tried desperately to ignore the glare Tancred gave him as he left.

"Em, where're you taking me?"

"Home."

Emma dragged Charlie into the bookshop. She stooped down, resting her hands on her knees.

"Seth?" she called, peering into the back room. "Seth!"

A small boy, hardly taller than Charlie's shoulder, ambled into the room. He had dark brown curls that flicked outward from his ears, large brown eyes to match and a sprinkling of freckles.

"Isn't he adorable?" Emma giggled, ruffling Seth's hair. "Come on, Seth, meet my friend. His name is Charlie."

"Hey." Seth clapped Charlie on the shoulder, grinning. "Emma's told me a lot about you."

"So—you can shift your shape?" Charlie once knew a beautiful girl, or an old woman rather, who could perform an identical feat. But she was an antagonist in the story of his life.

"Emma's told me everything about you," Seth replied warily. "About how you found her in your first year. And then you had some sort of conflict with your ancestor. After that, you battled an old woman who could shift her shape. I'm not like her."

"You're not?"

This was probably the most gratifying piece of news Charlie had ever grasped all day long.

"I can only morph into anything living. I can change my looks, but I choose not to. In fact, I prefer to stand as potted plants or animal statues when I eavesdrop."

"But flowerpots and statues aren't living. They don't breathe," Charlie said pointedly.

Seth nodded. "I know. I'm talking about the plant. The plant itself is living. And as a matter of fact, I don't morph into a statue. I morph into an animal with a rock-colored skin, and stand still in a corner."

"Amazing," Charlie breathed.

"But I can blow my cover as easy as _that_," Seth said, snapping his fingers. "When I blink, I disappear and reappear. If I close my eyes, I shrink. If I open them, I grow. It's hard to maintain a morphed state."

"Amazing," Charlie repeated.

"It was good to meet you, Charlie!" Seth bounded back to the sitting room, where Miss Ingledew was mopping.

"He sounds great, Em," Charlie grinned. "A great brother."

"He won't be my _brother_, silly," Emma laughed. "Seth will be Auntie Julia's son. Since I'm her niece, Seth will be my foster cousin."

Charlie contemplated. "You're right. It'll feel strange, being related to you, Em. Now Uncle P is an uncle to two."

"You and me," Emma agreed. "I wonder if you could do me a favor, Charlie?"

"Hm?"

"Could you give this to Naren the next time you visit?" Emma handed Charlie a bright red ribbon.

Charlie shook his head. "No. Naren won't be far away anymore. She and Meng are coming to live in the city!"

"What about Bartholomew?" Emma asked cautiously.

"His great-aunt's come to visit. Naren used to stay in Meng's bedroom. Now, there just isn't enough room for a fat aunt and three cousins. She and her mother have to move temporarily. It's just an apartment, on the edge of town. But it's still town."

"Great!" Emma shrieked. "You'll be seeing a lot of her, I'm guessing?"

Charlie flushed.

"Why can't you just ask her out?" Emma sighed. "It's as easy as—well, as love."

"You would know," Charlie mumbled. "It's your endowment."

"And I also know she feels strongly for you, too!" Emma was on her feet now. "Both of you are very subtle, very discreet. If you tried to bond, your efforts would show."

"Maybe I don't want to _show_," Charlie shrugged. "Maybe—maybe it's better off this way. I mean, she's a Bloor."

"Not necessarily. Are you forgetting something? She isn't Bartholomew's blood kin!"

Charlie had no reply to that.

"Charlie, I'm an expert now, on what I used to disregard."

"In short, you're saying you know everything about love."

"Back to back," Emma promised. "All you have to do, is make conversation. You're always talking about your problems. It's either some kind of trouble is lurking here or there."

"It's the only topic I can find."

"It's the only topic you should avoid," Emma argued. "Talk about school. Talk about Aunt Julia and Uncle Paton. Talk about social events. Talk about Meng. Something that she can relate to! And when you can draw that out, try asking her out."

"You mean—on a date? Emma, I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can! Has she moved yet?"

"She should have arrived at noon today."

"Perfect," Emma grinned fervently. "Go talk to her."

Shoving Charlie from the bookshop, Emma forced him onto the street and pointed to the far edge of town—the hilly side of the city labeled the Heights.

* * *

Charlie and Naren sat in her sitting room. The apartment's spotted wallpaper was unnerving. Round, misshapen eyes peered around everywhere at Charlie.

"So how're you enjoying the city, Naren?"

"It's a big place. I'm not sure I'd like to live here—you know, permanently. It seems so … intimidating and crowded. I'm claustrophobic."

Charlie was about to mention that he was claustrophobic as well, and tell her a story about the elevator he'd faced at the age of four, but he recalled Emma's advice.

"Er … how does Meng like the city?"

"She likes it just fine, in fact. She's very comfortable with the hustle and bustle."

"At least she's happy," Charlie murmured, panicking inwardly. He remembered Emma suggesting he mention his uncle's marriage. "Guess what, Naren?"

"What is it?"

"My Uncle Paton is going to get married!"

"_What_?" Naren leapt up from her seat. "You're kidding!"

Charlie grinned. "No, I'm not. He proposed to Emma's aunt two or three days ago."

"That's excellent! Oh, I'm so happy for them!"

She sounded exactly like Amy Bone. Charlie chuckled. "You sound like my mother."

Naren giggled. "I stopped in at the greengrocer's earlier. She wasn't there."

"No. She's switched her job. She's working at a restaurant."

"Which one? Meng would like to visit her. And also, Meng is looking for a job."

"It's called Marlborough Tech, something or other. It's a formal place. The restaurant's food is going to be the food served at our Scarlet Cotillion."

"What is the Scarlet Cotillion?" Naren asked.

"A Cotillion is a French dance. It's very formal," Charlie explained. "The Bloors are hosting the Cotillion; it's held every eight years as a signal for endowed children to enter adolescence."

"It's a generation-thing?" Naren asked, slightly confused.

"I guess you could say that. A welcome to each new generation of endowed."

"I see."

A beeper in Charlie's pocket began to call. He leapt to his feet. "My mum wants me at home. Do you mind?"

Naren smiled. "Not at all."

Before Charlie exited, he turned, hesitant.

"Say, would you be free—I mean, willing—to be my—to go? To the dance? With … with me?"

Naren brightened. "Yes, Charlie. Goodbye."

Outside, Charlie chuckled triumphantly. Finally!

A passing cat suddenly grew larger before his very eyes. "Seth?"

The boy, his dark brown curls bouncing, appeared in place of the ginger tabby. "Hiya, Charlie!"

His chuckle growing to a laugh, Charlie swung his arm around Seth's shoulders and led him home.

* * *

**Jacky: I loved the CharlieNaren. They are a very cute pairing.**

**You: What's all the Scarlet Cotillion about?**

**Jacky: Oh, it's just some dance I invented in the spur of the moment to get Charlie to ask Naren out.**

**You see, if he asked her out to dinner, that would be too ... old. Only teenagers go to dinner, or adults.**

**They're PRETEENS. School dances are the thing to fling! **

**; ) Enjoy the next few chapters.  
**


	11. Transfer

**TRANSFER

* * *

**

Julia suppressed a giggle as Amy Bone adjusted the veil atop her head.

"Oh, Amy," she sighed, gazing dolefully at her reflection in the oval mirror. "It's all so … _wonderful_. Like a fairy tale."

"My wedding," Amy smiled reminiscently, "wasn't such a big, white one. Though the romance was certainly there. Before I knew it, I'd uttered _yes_ and Lyell was holding my hand through it all. We ran off, you know, to elope, far away from the Yewbeams. We returned later, after a perfect honeymoon."

The two women gave synchronized sighs.

"Thanks for the lovely gown again, Amy."

"Don't thank me," Amy laughed. "I never wed in a dress at all. It's Maisie's, back when she could fit into that size."

Charlie poked his head into the doorway. "Mum, Grandma Bone wants to speak to you. Something about the velvet tablecloths. Miss Ingledew, I think Emma was looking for you."

Amy and Julia filed from the room, parting ways as they set off to find their designated persons.

"Emma?"

Julia found her niece perched on the edge of a marble fountain.

"Auntie! I was looking for you!"

"Charlie told me." Julia furrowed her brow in concern. "What's wrong?"

"The ring is missing!" Emma stood up. "I know it's _taboo_ for the bride to see the ring before the actual moment, nor the groom to see the bride and her gown, but you've _got_ to talk to Mr Yewbeam, and you've _got _to help him find your ring!"

Julia shuffled down the narrow corridor, tripping over her skirts.

"Oh dear, which room is Paton in?"

"I'm quite sure he's with Charlie," Emma hesitated.

Julia turned around, puzzled. She found Emma doubled up in silent laughter.

"What's so funny, Emma?"

"_I'm not Emma_!"

Julia's "niece" morphed suddenly into Seth Prowse, who was chuckling uncontrollably.

"Fooled you, Mum! You _know_ it's against tradition to see the ring, or let Dad see you. Why did you believe me?"

"Why did you masquerade as Emma?" Julia asked, perplexed. "I would have fallen for that stunt even if _you_ were the mastermind, Seth."

Seth frowned. "I don't know. You have more of a capacity to believe Emma over myself. I mean, she's a lot more serious, and I'm what Dad calls a Master of Mischief."

"Your father has that right," Julia muttered as she turned to return to her dressing-room. "The difference between you and your cousin Emma may be serious and curious, but I am willing to believe the both of you under every circumstance imaginable. I love you both equally."

"Good," Seth said fervently. He completed the remainder of the sentence under his breath. "Because that means you'll miss Cousin Emma equally."

"What do you mean?" Julia said sharply.

"I can morph. I morphed into a decorative fern not too long ago. Dr Bloor was here. He spoke with Aunt Grizelda—about the endowed children at Bloor's. I know I'm endowed, but he wasn't talking about me."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean?" Julia repeated, gripping her foster son's shoulder tightly.

But Seth would say no more.

* * *

Amy Bone leaned back in her seat, enjoying the view.

The minister turned a page in his book. Pachelbel's Canon began to play, followed swiftly by Mendelssohn's Wedding March. During the march, Julia started down the aisle, on James Yewbeam's arm.

It had been decided that, due to Julia being orphaned, Paton's father would be the one to give her away at the wedding.

Splendid in Maisie's past gown of candlelit white, tinged with a waxy pallor and adorned with a ribboned hem, a jewelled collar and matching veil, Julia slowly made her way to the altar.

The minister closed his eyes peaceably as he began to read from memory.

"Dearly beloved…"

Amy felt the scene slipping away before her very eyes. Momentarily, Amy was lost within boundless darkness before she found the vision she had been hunting for.

She was clad in an adorable sundress, copper orange and sunshine-yellow with a touch of rosy, flowery pink. A delicate passion blossom held back the loose strands of her elegant chignon. Her hair, golden caramel with streaks of honey, shone in the sunlight.

Her face was glowing.

Why couldn't she be as happy now? Surely, she'd found Lyell. As she thought his name, the twenty-two year-old young man was seizing her wrist, exclaiming with delight over his plan.

Amy had labelled Lyell's plan to secretly elope the most wonderful and important event of her seventeen years of life at that time. But also at that time, her head had swam with romantic notions and unachievable daydreams.

A warm hand gripped her fingers firmly, and Amy was transported back to the Cathedral. Lyell was squeezing her hand, and from the faraway expression and the wistful smile on his face, she could tell his thoughts and sentiments matched hers exactly.

By the altar, Julia and Paton had already wrapped their arms around each other, lost deeply in their kiss. Amy applauded, along with the rest of the audience, as Julia took Paton's hand in hers and began to run down the steps and down the aisle, aimlessly releasing her bouquet behind her.

Amy would recognize the hand that grasped the thrown bouquet anywhere.

The next bride-to-be would be Eustacia Yewbeam.

In the midst of a congratulating crowd, the abundant woman shrieked for her sisters. Amy stifled a giggle as she headed toward the newlyweds, chatting lightly by the punch bowl.

"May I offer my _congratulations_!" Amy screamed, embracing Julia warmly and shaking hands with Paton. "Where are you to live?"

"We'll continue with our lives," Paton grinned. "The bookshop, with Julia and Emma, will be far too full for another two. Seth is coming to live in number nine, if it's alright with you, Amy. He'll stay with me."

"It's fine, fine," Amy smiled. "Darling Seth. I'll make up the guest room for him. I've seen the way orphan children wish for family life and inclusion. Billy Raven is far too blunt with his feelings for me to miss it. Seth shan't experience that."

"You're too kind." Julia offered Amy a glass of punch. "How's Charlie getting on?"

"As he grows older, I see less and less of Charlie each day," Amy sighed.

Julia nodded. "Emma is usually away as well. But she'll stay and help by the bookshop if I ask."

"Emma will go far," Paton promised. "She's an affable young lady: talented and ambitious and motivated."

Julia nodded in agreement. "Seth had something to say about Emma."

Seth appeared suddenly, dark brown curls bobbing. "Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!"

Paton beckoned his foster son to his side. "What had you to say about Emma?"

"Cousin Emma's going away. I've already said my goodbyes because I know I won't be seeing her after the wedding, since I'll be living with you, Dad. And it's not likely the Bloors will stall."

"What are you—" Paton began to ask, but Grandma Bone interrupted.

"Dr Bloor has already spoken to me. Charlie will not be leaving, since he began studies at Bloor's Academy a bit later than the rest. Only the African, the storm-boy, Emma Tolly, Dorcas Loom and Billy Raven will leave."

"Only Lysander, Tancred, Emma, Dorcas Loom and Billy will leave?" Julia repeated. "And because they're the eldest?"

"Certainly not." Grandma Bone gave a snort. "Billy Raven's the youngest, but he has been at Bloor's for much longer than the telekinetic twins, Charlie, and the rest. Asa Pike has exams to take. Manfred Bloor is no longer a student. We've used improvisation."

"Where will they be going?" Julia asked, shooting a glance at Seth as if to say _"Why didn't you tell us this?"_

"Your morphing _son_ will tell you," Grandma Bone spat. "Especially because he eavesdropped, the sneaky rat."

She sauntered away to mingle with the guests, sneering at their gowns or making snide comments about their actions and choices.

"Emma and the others are leaving to volunteer at the Morvan & Loth Special Institution and Programming," Seth hurriedly elaborated following Julia's sharp stare.

"Volunteer?" Paton seemed confused.

"They'll be servants. Helping hands, hired staff. They'll also _help_ in Morvan and Loth's experiments. Apparently, they deal with endowed children and are currently concocting a potion that will temporarily disable abilities."

"Scientists," Paton mumbled. "Charlie's told me about Morvan and Loth. They were at the Bloors' Hundred Heads dinner not too long ago."

"I don't like the idea of Emma handling a scientist," Julia murmured. "I mean, she'll be a guinea pig, won't she? And Emma is a girl with a future. I won't see her as a maidservant to these scientists."

"You'll have a hard time taking _that_ up with the Bloors," Seth frowned. "They appear to be dead-set on the idea. Dr Bloor told Aunt Grizelda that preparations had been made and all the required _equipment _had been bought."

"Equipment." Paton clearly didn't like the sound of that word.

Amy patted Julia sympathetically on the shoulder. "Emma will write, I'm sure."

"Communication isn't my largest concern," Julia protested. "It's safety. The Bloors are malicious. Who knows what Morvan and Loth are like?"

* * *

Monday came round too quickly.

Olivia sighed as she slung her purple rucksack over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Mum!" she called, slipping an apple into her pocket as she ran toward the purple bus awaiting by the driveway.

Vivienne Vertigo replied with a wave as she gulped down her breakfast of oatmeal and berries.

Olivia endured the bus ride to school in silence. She was contemplating all that she had overheard at the wedding. Emma would be leaving, that much she knew. Not alone, thank goodness.

Her friend would be with friends—except for Dorcas Loom. As far as anyone knew, Dorcas could very well become closely associated with these Morvan and Loth people.

Dorcas had changed in the beginning of their second year, when Belle had made her entrance into Bloor's. Once a plump, giggling girl, she transformed into a plotting, snide schemer.

Olivia slipped through the gates of Bloor's reluctantly. The moment she spotted Fidelio, she raced over to his side.

"Fido!" she greeted breathlessly, the apple bobbing dangerously from her pocket.

"Hi, Liv!" His enthusiasm caused fizzy elation to bubble within her. She smiled widely.

"We've got a problem." Olivia could hardly keep the cheerfulness in her voice. Why oh why did it have to be Fidelio Gunn?

Fidelio shrugged and chuckled. "And I should be surprised because…?"

Olivia realized, in a moment of clarity, that she was in _love_ with Fidelio. Oh, Lord. Oh dear, _dear_ Lord. The news could wait.

"You should be surprised _because_ you're going to Scarlet Cotillion with me."

* * *

**Jacky: another GREAT reason to have invented the Cotillion. **

**You: why?**

**Jacky: for the OliviaFidelio pairing, of course!**

**You: of course. **

**3 OliviaxFidelio + JuliaxPaton : )  
**


	12. Institution

**INSTITUTION**

* * *

Emma had been informed beforehand of her departure.

She would be working as a maidservant to Professors Morvan and Loth. Hooray.

To be scrutinized every ticking minute of the clock and overlooked as nothing but a lowly staff member or hired help unworthy of notice or incapable of anything seemed the worst possible punishment to Emma. Everyone liked to be given attention and notice.

"—to Morvan & Loth Special Institution and Programming," Manfred declared. Having been notified earlier, his announcement struck Emma as a thing of the past.

She recalled the frantic looks on Paton and Julia's faces as they spilled the news. She had been absolutely horrified at first, but Emma knew that no amount of pleading or crying would help the matter. The Bloors would never change their mind.

But she could.

From that moment, Emma had made up her mind to accept the fact that she would be leaving the city for temporary needs. Of course, the term _temporary_ helped to relieve her of panic at times.

At times like this.

Once again, Emma felt uncontrollably woeful. Sorrow and remorse welled up inside her, and Emma knew she would miss everything she knew and loved, even _hated_, during her momentary absence from the town.

She would miss seeing the Cathedral from her window every morning as she awoke to the sound of squawking Nancy the Duck. She would miss hugging her Aunt Julia and cordially greeting Mr Yewbeam each time she returned from the Academy for the weekend.

But overall, Emma knew the largest factor of her life which she would miss.

Her endowment.

Just possessing the mere realization and recognition of her affinity was enough. But as she entered the life of a staff member on campus of a notorious institution, Emma knew she was practically shoving her talent beneath lock and key.

Not that her talent was much of a _talent_ at all. Love—sure, she knew plenty about it, now. And she was vulnerable to it. But that didn't give her any sense of control over her endowment such as Olivia or Tancred had.

Overall, the institution wasn't only a campus of well-known persons and professors, but it was one of prestige and respect. Emma would be nothing but a misfit, not coming from a prestigious family at all.

"—Emma Tolly, and Billy Raven," Manfred finished smugly. "Your departure date has been debated. It's decided that you will all leave _after_ the Scarlet Cotillion."

Emma jerked at the sound of her name, but her attention was caught by the departure date. It was set for _after_ the dance. Why?

She noticed, from the corner of her eye, the potted bonsai tree in the corner vanish for a fraction of second—and then reappear, nearly two sizes larger.

Luckily, she was the only one who spotted the strange occurrence.

As everyone left the room, including Manfred, Emma darted over to the bonsai.

"Seth!"

The tree morphed into her foster-cousin.

"Seth, you nearly gave yourself away, when you blinked. Not to mention you widened your eyes!"

"I couldn't help it," Seth grinned. "Manfred's announcement came as a shock. I can't believe he's stalling."

"Not by much," Emma hesitantly muttered. "The Scarlet Cotillion is tomorrow."

"Have you got a date?" Seth asked eagerly.

Emma shook her head. "More than enough. Six boys have already asked me."

Seth glanced up at his cousin.

Pretty Emma—her straight-ironed, golden-blond hair, warm to the touch and impossibly sleek. Her eyes, enticing and bright, her smile was picture-perfect and genuine.

"I turned them all down. I've decided not to go."

"Why?" Seth asked frantically. "Emma, what can I do to convince you to go? Come on, I mean—it's your last chance to do something fun before you leave."

The bleak thought of leaving the city reoccurred to Emma. Right then and there she made up her mind.

"Right," she told Seth, smiling. "I'll go find Karsen and tell him I'm going."

"Who's this Karsen?" Seth frowned.

"Only the cutest boy I've ever met."

* * *

Flashing lights and a polished floor.

The Scarlet Cotillion was the romantic daydream of every preteen girl. Including Olivia Vertigo.

Tancred Torsson watched Olivia and Fidelio swing onto the floor, giggling. He turned back to his date, a skinny snob named Wilhelmina Holmes—nicknamed Wilma.

But he wasn't paying much attention at all to Wilma Holmes. He was scanning the pack of swirling, twirling figures for a pretty blond girl.

He found her with another boy. The boy was cute, sure. Something Emma would certainly go after.

Tancred knew the boy well. His name was Karsen, a second-former. He was naught but a month older than Emma herself.

He had dark brown hair, the slightest bit shaggy; it flicked outward, revealing his ears. It was what all girls labelled _helmet hair_, usually found on skaters or hockey players; after sporting a helmet after awhile, it would imprint upon your hair.

Tancred could read from the way Emma smiled up at Karsen that she thought his grin was adorable. Sure, he was boyishly cute, and Tancred could obviously see what Emma liked about him. But that irresistible surge of jealousy and envy coursed through him again.

Emma caught his eye and her smile faltered at his hard expression.

He excused himself from Wilma Holmes, who was gossiping with Liz Thornton. He weaved his way through the crowd toward Emma and Karsen, but when he could see past the shoulders and faces, he had lost them.

He found Emma and Karsen again by the buffet. Emma was giggling, popping bright red berries into Karsen's mouth. Tancred could feel the rain and snow swirling in his body.

He forced down his anger as he pretended to pour himself punch. Emma, across Karsen's shoulder, shot him an annoyed glance. _What was that all about?_ she mouthed silently.

Tancred beckoned with a finger under his glass. Emma hurriedly excused herself from Karsen.

"What was _that_?" Emma fumed.

"Nothing, if that's what you want," Tancred said calmly.

"_Nothing_?" Emma frowned. "Is that what I heard?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because that sure isn't what I saw." Her hands were on her hips.

"Emma, don't—be like this. Just … don't."

Emma shrugged and turned away, but Tancred caught her shoulder.

"I know we got off to a rougher start," he elaborated, avoiding her eye, "but that's changed now. You're one of my best friends, Em."

Emma nodded thoughtfully. "That means quite a lot."

"I _want_ it to mean a lot." Tancred's smile wasn't completely friendly. There was something more behind his cheeriness, but Emma didn't question this verbally. She merely returned the smile, though half-heartedly, and returned to Karsen.

Tancred watched from afar. In mere moments, the boy had turned her frown upright.

He just couldn't win.

* * *

Professors Morvan and Loth were both tall, paunchy and bearded.

They were certainly much more than simply middle-aged men devoted to their area of science. They possessed a knowledge far beyond their years. Emma could feel that neither felt love for one another. From one perspective, the stern Morvan loved his studies. From another outlook, the Professor cared only for his son, who was now Loth's stepson. However, no love from any viewpoint could be found directed for Professor Loth.

Emma could feel that the institute was a bleak and gloomy place. None of the students felt any love toward each other or anyone outside of the campus. At times, Emma wished she had been gifted with a different sixth sense, and not one of love. The decrease of love and affection from the city to Morvan & Loth's was depressing.

She felt a nudge. Looking over her shoulder, she caught a supportive grin from Tancred from behind Dorcas Loom. She returned the smile.

"Students of Bloor's Academy," Morvan rumbled, his voice viscous and thick. "You will all be housed separately. Here at the gifted institute we believe in independence, self-reliance and individuality."

No wonder the affection was less here.

"And," he continued, "We have the map here, in Loth's hands. He shall take over my imaginary podium now, and I ask that you give him your full and undivided attention."

Professor Loth stepped forward, his eyes directed toward the sky. Emma knew the gesture well. It was one she recognized everywhere. The man was making his speech purely from memory.

"Our campus is wide. There is plenty of room for five more. The orphan, Billy Raven, will house with Thor in the Staff Lodgings. You will share the room with him, and won't object."

"Yes, sir," Billy obeyed meekly, allowing Morvan to lead him away to the Staff Lodgings.

"Next, Tancred Torsson will stay in the gatehouse with our caretaker, Pa Rodney. The gatehouse, Torsson, is by the edge of the woods."

Tancred didn't seem too pleased with living in a wooden cabin by a forest.

"Dorcas Loom will also stay in the Staffing Lodges, with Ana Pinalli, our between-maid. Here comes Morvan now—he'll redirect you to the Staff Lodgings."

Morvan returned, irritated at being asked to lead yet another student to where he had just come from.

"Emma Tolly—you will be staying at the school, working as a teacher's assistant. In fact, you will be Instructor Perez's helping hand. His classroom is number six. During the nighttime, you will sleep and keep your possessions in your very own student dorm."

_Leave it up to Emma to score the luxury,_ Lysander smirked, glad that rag-clad Emma was once able to land a nice life, even if it was only momentary.

"And Lysander Sage, please report to the main office. I think we can use your efforts as well. An intern—you'll fetch coffee, organize papers and run errands for myself and Dr Loth. You'll also help our other intern, Peter, with registration files and such. Off you go."

It felt awkward, Lysander decided, not having the Headmaster's blowing _DISPERSE_ roared in your face. He slunk off to the main office, following the signs and notices along the way. He found it soon enough without hassle.

"Hi."

Lysander looked down. The speaker of the juvenile, squeaky voice was a tiny boy who couldn't have been much taller than three feet.

"Who are you?" Lysander knew he must sound unkind and crude, but the boy's grin merely widened.

"I'm Peter, the registration intern. I was told you're to work with me. That is, if you're Lysander Sage?"

Lysander nodded. "You can't be much older than ten. I expected the intern to be somewhat my age, if not older."

"They depend on children to run services and such," Peter explained. "It helps build character, that's what Dr Loth says. They call me Millimetre-Peter."

Lysander laughed. "Alright, then. Show me what I've got to do, Millimetre-Peter."

* * *

Tancred slumped against the closed door, exhausted. Who knew hauling three bags of luggage across campus could be such tiring work? Fatigued, he didn't bother to turn on the lights.

The gatehouse in question was small and wooden. A puny window looked to the school, and the next room held several skylights.

"Are you Tancred?"

The voice was low yet cheerful. A boy, perhaps four feet and a full head shorter than Tancred himself, entered the room.

Tancred nodded. "Who are _you_?"

The boy had blond hair, though it was far darker than Tancred's. It was pure gold, shiny and short. His eyes were wide and chocolate brown, and sat above a sprinkling of golden freckles.

He grinned widely. "I'm Kenny Korner, the caretaker of this institute."

"You're so young." Tancred had been expecting to be told that Kenny was the caretaker's son.

"Yeah, Dr Loth says that when you're given early work, you build character. I mean, early as in young."

Tancred nodded again, hesitantly. "So Kenny, show me where I'm supposed to sleep."

"You're going to sleep with me. I know you have _beds_ in the city, but we're nothing but lowly caretakers. We sleep on blanket layers. If you'd like, you can use one of the blankets as a quilt, but that means less padding for you. I prefer to sleep in my tweed coat."

Tancred immediately felt sorry for this boy.

"How old, exactly, are you?" Kenny couldn't have been much older than nine.

"I'm fifteen; I'll be sixteen in eight months."

Kenny was older than Tancred by a year and a half, at estimation.

"Alright, then. You'll be the older brother I never had."

Grinning, Kenny assisted Tancred with his bags as they strode further into the gatehouse, chatting as though they hadn't just met two minutes earlier.

* * *

Emma wasn't sure she'd like it here.

She couldn't stand seeing Tancred struggle in a wooden gatehouse, or Billy in the Staff Lodgings with the other damper servants. What a depressive bunch these gifted students were. As she passed by the dormitories, searching for number 31, the other girls and boys fixed her with curious eyes.

Some pairs of eyes held no curiosity; only contempt and smugness.

Worst of all, she was expected to work beneath an instructor. She had been given the highest task above Tancred's, Lysander's, Billy's, and Dorcas's. She felt horrible.

At least her dorm had a window. She didn't know how she'd survive without a view of the outdoor world. Suddenly, a stray cat prowled into her dorm.

She understood instantly, giggling. "_Ohmygoodness, SETH_?"

The boy was before her eyes in an instant. "Watch it, cousin."

For Emma was squeezing Seth in a vice-tight bear hug, unable to stop laughing.

"Seth, you've got to promise me to come _everyday_."

Seth grinned. He was glad to feel wanted. He really loved his new foster family. They had wanted him then, and they wanted him now. The only problem was that if his Dad found out he was sneaking to the institute to visit Emma, his Aunt Grizelda would freak.

Oh, well. He could deal with Paton later. This was for Emma.

"Sure, I promise."

* * *

**Jacky: Ahw, I love their new family. Julia + Paton = Emma & Seth!**

**You: Only Emma isn't their daughter, and Seth isn't blood kin.**

**Jacky: Yeah. Only.**

**: ( If only they were . . .  
**


	13. Popfly

**POPFLY**

It was snowing.

Vivienne Vertigo grimaced.

"I think I'll cancel my orthodontist appointment," she muttered. "It's not fit to go out."

"You don't need to see an orthodontist, Mum," Olivia said plaintively. "Your teeth look as good as any."

"That's hardly a compliment." Vivienne made a face. "But I'll be going outdoors anyhow."

"What's that, Mum?"

"It's a tradition. It's healthy for plants if you water them with melted snow. And it's always best to use the _first_ snow of the season. You've learned about the water cycle, right?"

Olivia nodded.

"After the first snow, all the following precipitation is purely _dirty_ and … well, I suppose you could call it _recycled_ weather. I'll fetch the snow right now, so by teatime it'll be completely melted."

She opened the door, stepped outside with a bowl in her gloved hands, and hurriedly scooped a heap of snow before her nose froze.

A gust flew into the house through the open door.

Vivienne returned to the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Olivia tucked her feet underneath her, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs and settling her chin snugly on her knees. (LOL, how many _her_s did you find in that sentence?)

"It _is_ cold outside," she commented, glancing out the frosty windowpane.

"Too cold," Vivienne agreed. "I don't think you should leave the house anytime today."

"Actually, I was thinking I might visit Gunn House," Olivia smiled. "I've nothing else to do."

"It looks bleak," Vivienne remarked anxiously. Her forehead creased with worry. "You'll freeze your acting talents off, Liv."

"My acting talents are under lock, key, and a winter hat," Olivia grinned, indicating her head. "I'm off, Mum!"

After bundling herself up in various water-and-weather-proof outerwear, Olivia staggered blearily outdoors. Snow fell in soft, powdery flakes.

She sprinted the half-mile to Gunn House, chattering all the way. When she arrived at the door, she was little less than absolutely frozen.

Chloe Gunn answered the door. "Goodness gracious, Olivia Vertigo! You're no more than a solid chunk of ice! Come in, come in!"

Chloe ushered Olivia indoors, where she insisted on a bowl of hot stew. "Enjoy yourself, dearie. Fidelio is upstairs, giving Pudding a bath."

Pudding was the deaf cat that aimlessly roamed about the Gunn House.

"I think I'll go help him," Olivia murmured, allowing her spoon to fall into her empty bowl with a clatter. "Thanks or the stew, Mrs Gunn."

She mounted the two flights of stairs to the first bathroom she encountered. She knocked tentatively on the door, only to receive a shocking response.

"Can't you tell I'm still showering, Dad? Unless you want to see me _naked_ in a _shower cap_ and my legs covered in _shaving cream_ with a _purple razor_ in my hand, _DON'T INTERRUPT_!"

She recognized the voice as Felix's.

"I'm not your father," Olivia loudly replied, taken aback.

Felix uttered a shrill shriek of surprise. There was a much louder, painful shriek that followed as he accidentally cut himself with his razor.

Olivia giggled as she continued up the stairs, until she finally found Fidelio scrubbing a viciously restless tabby.

"Hi, Fido!" She bounded into the bathroom, only to slip and fall on her bottom as her socks drenched themselves in the puddles of water on the tiled floor. "Ooooooooops!"

"Sorry," Fidelio apologized, "Pudding is unbelievably angry today."

"Did you know Felix shaves his legs? With a purple razor?" Olivia giggled again.

Fidelio chuckled. "It's a habit. He says all the other boys in his band does the same, and that he doesn't want to endure life with cactus legs. So why're you here?"

"I was bored," Olivia said simply. "I mean, now that Emma's gone…"

"You could have visited Charlie. His house is only a quarter-mile from yours. You must have endured _hell _to get here."

"If Hell means icy roads and snowstorms, then _yes, I did_," Olivia shuddered. "But I didn't want to see Charlie. I wanted to see you."

"You could have asked for a ride," Fidelio smirked. "It's probably a gale out there."

"Fidelio Gunn!" Olivia pouted, placing her hands on her hips. "I just threw you a popfly line. Why didn't you catch it?"

"Maybe because I'd rather give you a home run," Fidelio grinned.

Olivia laughed. She tossed her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. Their kiss didn't last two seconds before Pudding angrily rolled over in the tub, causing water to soak the two of them to the skin.

Olivia, flushing, brushed his hair away from his face, unable to stop giggling. Before long, her smile had vanished, and her mouth was back where it belonged: connected to Fidelio's.

"Score," Olivia murmured lightly. "I win the game."

* * *

Charlie and Naren sat outside the Cathedral, moping by the pavement.

At least, at a distant glance you would _think_ they were moping. But contrary to assumptions, the two of them were sharing a conversation.

"The Scarlet Cotillion was a very nice affair," Naren commented, wistfully gazing toward the sky.

"You looked really nice," Charlie remarked offhandedly. The topic was one he would not like to linger on, but it was the only topic Naren was set on.

He could still recall Naren as she looked the eve of the ball. She had worn a pristine white blouse, with short puffed sleeves and a knot by the collar atop a dull yellow skirt with a lacy hem and flowery designs. She wore a sunflower behind her ear, her black hair pulled back.

"And you looked very uncomfortable in your tuxedo," Naren giggled.

True, he had. It had been stifling in the ballroom at Bloor's, and he simply hadn't been able to loosen the tie around his neck.

Charlie chuckled reminiscently, forcing himself not to flush with embarrassment.

"I wonder how Emma is doing up by the Institute," Naren worried.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Emma can take care of herself. It's Billy I'm worried about. He's so gullible."

"Gullible." Naren furrowed her brow in an expression of perplexity. "As in vulnerable? Do the children play pranks on Billy?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, that's not it. Billy can be manipulated easily. In our first year, he sold all of us out because the Bloors promised him new parents to be their spy."

"Everyone is a pushover for what they really want," Naren reasoned. "It's really not Billy's fault."

"I guess." Charlie was still unsure.

"I can see you're unconvinced. Three years ago, if the Bloors promised you that they would tell you where your father was—and you were uncertain about their reliability—wouldn't you have done nearly _anything_?"

Charlie was caught. "I—Yes."

"See?"

Charlie saw. When events involved the ones you loved, there were no circumstances that could hold you back. Unless Billy was tempted again, Charlie doubted he would find trouble at the Institute. He felt much better, and reassured.

"You're right. I bet Billy will be fine at the Institute."

Naren smiled. "Me, too."

"You've been a really great friend, Naren," Charlie began hesitantly. "I hope this won't ruin our friendship, because I wouldn't want to lose you."

Naren waited, sensing something was coming.

"But I'll take my chances."

He grinned, leaning in. Naren followed suit, her eyes closed in bliss.

The moment Charlie's mouth met hers, Naren's eyes shot open.

Had her mouth not been preoccupied, she most certainly would have gasped aloud. His tongue was in hers, and she could feel her own lifting to meet his.

Once the kiss was over, Naren found she had been holding her breath. She exhaled, still slightly breathless. Was it possible Charlie Bone had just _kissed_ her?

Charlie's beeper began to sound, and he scrambled hurriedly to his feet.

"I've got to run, Naren," he muttered, turning away with a reddened face and a guilty smile. "Bye!"

"Bye." Naren felt her own smile returning as she watched Charlie leave, sprinting off toward Filbert Street at an alarming pace.

Sometimes, Naren got the feeling Charlie set the beeper to interrupt at awkward moments.

*

Olivia and Fidelio were still soaking wet, and still lost in a kiss.

Pudding had begun to calm down, licking herself clean without Fidelio's help.

Olivia broke away, completely out of breath.

"Wasn't that something?" she murmured, giggling.

Fidelio nodded vigorously. "I think my parents are going to worry. We'd better dry off."

"Not yet," Olivia paused. "I've still got one last turn at the bat."

"And it's another popfly," Fidelio grinned, rolling his eyes. But his eyes widened as Olivia flung herself toward him for another deep kiss.

Somewhat ten minutes after, Fidelio and Olivia were dismounting the staircase with Pudding at their heels. Mr Gunn popped his head from the broom closet.

"And what've you two been up to?" he asked, smirking as he scrutinized their wet clothes and hair.

Fidelio and Olivia exchanged nods.

"Baseball," they answered together.

* * *

**Jacky: Sorry if you don't like gushy scenes.**

**You: OliviaxFidelio and CharliexNaren are the coolest pairings.**

**Jacky: I agree. I know it's short.**

* * *


	14. Blindfolded

**BLINDFOLDED**

**

* * *

**

Charlie slid into his seat tentatively.

"Okay, I know this meeting is unexpected," Olivia said slowly, "but I was just wondering if you felt it, too."

They were at the Pets' Café. In the middle of the circular table sat a plate laden with iced biscuits and slices of frosted fruitcake.

"Felt what?" Naren asked, leaning across the table to face Olivia.

"The—turbulence."

Fidelio raised his eyebrows. Charlie was taken by surprise as well. He dropped the iced biscuit he held in his hands.

"Oops—sorry." Charlie bent down to retrieve his cookie. As he made to rise from the floor, he dropped it again.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

Fidelio's hand was intertwined with Olivia's beneath the table. Pretending he had not seen anything, Charlie rose to his seat and continued eating his biscuit, waiting for a distraction.

"What turbulence?" Naren asked gently, as Olivia slipped a slice of cake into her mouth.

"The balance. It's lopsided. I think that's why Dr Bloor might have chosen a majority of the _good_ endowed to leave to the Institute. Remember Cook? She said she was the lodestone."

"And after the addition of _bad_ endowed—Belle, Inez and Idith—in that first term as a second-year," Fidelio added, "she failed."

"Right," Charlie said. "And now that they've lost Inez to the Cast Exam, I think Olivia's right."

"Very possibly," Gabriel Silk agreed. He had been feeding his gerbil, Rita, a finger-full of cake frosting the entire time, but despite his masquerade, he had definitely been all ears.

"It's sneaky," Olivia remarked.

"It's devious," Fidelio agreed.

"It's downright _brilliant_," Charlie protested. "Of course Morvan and Loth would need helping hands, but after Asa and his wolf incident the previous term, and Inez's death this term, I doubt they'd be able to find a more ... underhanded way to handle it. Pretending that _they_ weren't the cause for the leave is so—so—"

"Clever?" Naren put it.

Charlie nodded. "Clever."

Had Charlie been able to see the facts as an outsider, he would probably not have arrived at such a conclusion.

In fact, he was as far from right as far could go.

* * *

Emma Tolly hated her new job.

All she had to do was organize papers into the filing cabinets, help the students with their work, collect homework, mark test sheets, and manage the classroom when Instructor Perez was away.

But still, she couldn't help the dislike.

Instructor Perez was very kind. He was the kind of man who you would often associate with as a child; one of those gleeful relatives who would always crouch down, congratulate you on your work, and speak as if he cared deeply.

It wasn't the Instructor's fault his class, subject, and room were so boring.

The classroom's crepe wallpaper was beginning to peel at the corners. The desks, including hers and Perez's, were all mahogany. The door was mahogany. The seats were mahogany.

Everything about the room was old-fashioned, ancient, dilapidated, and completely in harmony. There was nothing out-of-place to stare at, nothing to marvel at. Emma hated the classroom.

His subject—genealogy—was more boring than the classroom itself, if that were possible.

Learning about how to retrace other endowed children back to their ancestors was completely off the Need-to-Know list. The three words Emma only caught in Perez's lectures were _The Red King_.

His class contained children who were entirely focused on genealogy. None seemed to slump in that dreadful torpor her French lesson back at Bloor's provoked her to. In fact, if it hadn't been for Perez's dependence on her, Emma would probably have collapsed onto her desk and fell asleep long before this.

In short, the students were as monotonous as Instructor Perez.

As she sat contemplating this in her dormitory, when she should have been marking Perez's quarter-term quizzes, Emma heard a noise at her window.

She slowly rose to her feet and made her way over to the far wall. The window was closed. Nothing was in sight but a full landscape of trees littered with powdery, soft snow.

A beautiful scene, but she hadn't found what she'd been looking for.

"Hello?"

It was barely a whisper, but Emma hoped whatever—or _who_ever—that was lurking by her window would hear. She didn't want to upset the other students.

Once, she'd been speaking to Seth, who had snuck in as a blinking bird. They had kept the conversation rational, and fortunate they did, too. It appeared that through the walls dividing the dorms, students could eavesdrop as easily as they could overhear as if the speakers were in their room.

"Hello?" she repeated, her curiosity dwindling.

Before her ray of hope could vanish altogether, a pigeon returned, pecking at her windowpane.

She hurried to open it.

"Seth, don't break my windowpane!"

She could always recognize Seth. The feathers of the pigeon were slightly ruffled and messy. It could be connected with Seth's brown curls instantly.

"Sorry." The pigeon blinked before returning to its normal state.

"Why're you a pigeon, anyhow?" Emma questioned casually. "I thought you preferred toucans and Laughing Gulls."

"A toucan was too—out of place—for a school," Seth shrugged. "And I _would_ have morphed into a Laughing Gull if it hadn't been for the _occasion_."

"My favorite bird was the barn owl. I think it's the _prettiest_ bird of every—" Emma paused. "What did you say?"

"Occasion. I would've came as a Gull if it hadn't been for the _occasion_," Seth repeated coyly.

"You're dead if you don't talk."

"Alright, already." Seth smoothed his hair away from his face and spat a feather from his mouth. "Euch. Anyhow, I've got a delivery to make."

"You're leaving?" Emma stood up. "You can't go. Not yet."

"I'm not going anywhere, Em," Seth laughed. "You can relax. But don't get used to my visits. This was only for a friend. Or should I say—_your_ friend."

"What?" Emma couldn't understand a single thing. But Seth merely grinned as he reached into his pocket.

"As I said, I've got a delivery to make. Here you go."

He handed her a folded note. The ink was smeared in places, and the paper seemed crusty and crude. She wondered who it could have been from, and why she had been the addressee.

She opened the note.

_Emma,_

_Hope you're having fun up in the school. You won't see me often, but I'll be around. What're you reading?_

_Friends? : )_

Emma groaned.

"Great. Now I have to play a guessing game to see who my mail is from."

Seth's grin widened. "It's not a guessing game, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you. He's your friend."

"So it's a he," Emma pondered. "And he's not in the school. Seth, how long ago did you accept this delivery?"

"I would have to say—ten minutes. He treated me to fruit." Seth licked his lips in satisfaction.

"Ten minutes—I was reading _Divisadero_. So he can see me? Hm. Wait here, Seth, and I'll give you something to take back. Don't worry about constant exchanges; I'm sure this is a one-time thing."

"Alright," Seth conceded, "But you're not following me. Promise me you'll draw the curtains the moment I'm outside. I'll loiter until you do."

Emma smiled, nodding. "Absolutely."

She returned with a folded letter in her hands, delicately slipping the note into Seth's mouth apprehensively.

"Will your beak puncture the note?" Emma asked.

"You should know. You were bird-girl once."

"The Cast Exam," Emma explained. "I've forgotten everything."

"No, it won't harm the note. Open the window while I morph."

Emma obeyed, unwilling to watch her cousin shift his shape. She was face to face with a nodding, airborne pigeon, which soared straight through the window with a folded note carried in his beak, still intact.

True to his word, Seth lingered outside her window until she drew the curtains. Emma decided she preferred it this way, not knowing, and returned to marking Perez's quizzes.

_Speak of the devil_, Emma thought wryly, as Instructor Perez entered the room.

"Emma, I've something I'd like you to know. Your surname is Tolly, is that right?"

Emma nodded, expectant. What was coming next?

"I think it's fair for you to know—I—I'm your relative. Your Uncle, in fact."

"But your surname isn't Tolly," Emma protested. "It's Perez!"

"I hid myself from the Bloors after Dr Tolly died. I found no trace of you. Julia was gone—in hiding, I suspected and half-hoped—and I had nowhere to go. I supposed the best place to be was away from Harold Bloor. He's got connections, and it's not easy to hide in such a small town. Everyone knows everyone. You can't fart without getting away with it. Like I said, such a small town."

"I see," Emma said hesitantly. "Instructor Perez—I mean, Uncle, who are you?"

"My name is Abravius Locklear Tolly, but I go by Bravy. When Mostyn—your father—passed away, I was the courier. I spoke with him earlier after his death, and he told me of his intentions. How he would be sending all his possessions to Julia. How he planned to awaken you. Oh, how I wished I could have been there to help you find yourself. It would have been easier, because I knew how everything was supposed to run. It would run like clockwork, if I had been there."

"But it didn't," Emma said. "But you weren't."

Bravy shook his head sadly. "No, I wasn't. No, it didn't. Nothing went according to plan. I couldn't stay with Dr Bloor watching. I knew he would track me down and hurt me, or hurt my family. I have no children, but I do have a wife I adored."

Emma noted the past tense. "She's gone?"

"Past tense doesn't necessarily mean she's dead or missing, Emma," Bravy said gently. "She's just—not who I married. Years ago—eighteen, to be exact—I fell in love with a wonderful woman. Her name was Fallon, a gorgeous blonde like yourself. In fact, I rather think you're prettier."

Emma blushed, but didn't interrupt.

"Fallon was everything I needed, and wanted. She was friendly, gentle, caring, beautiful, and intelligent. We spent a good nine years of our lives together as a wed couple, with solid careers and dependable incomes. We got through."

Emma nodded, waiting for the climax.

"But Fallon became insistent. She wanted children. And only later did I discover her true motive. She wanted to manipulate them, like puppets, to achieve what she wanted. I knew nine years was far too long for a masquerade. Fallon _must_ have once been a good and kind woman. If I had been the cause for the sudden turn, I would never forgive myself."

Bravy was very emotional, Emma noticed.

"She wanted to use them to her advantage, for her personal gain. I hated that. I wanted to destroy her. I wanted to tear her to pieces. But instead, I merely left her, telling her she disgusted me. And now that I'm top Instructor at the Institute, and Vice Headmaster beneath Morvan and Loth, she's coming to visit."

He was also extremely melodramatic.

"She's coming to wallow in my power. She's always been a greedy moron, but now more so than ever. She knows of you, Emma. She wants to use _you_ to her advantage now. To gain."

Emma understood now. All the caring gestures and childish feelings Emma had experienced alongside "Instructor Perez" made sense. He was her relative, and he loved her.

Love was her endowment. It had been telling her something, had been showing her something. Had it been she who hadn't been listening? Had she blindfolded herself, unable to accept the possibilities that now were real and factual?

"You've been blindfolded nearly your entire life, Emma, to the possibilities and options around you," Bravy said, echoing her thoughts. "This time, I'm trying to show you _before_ you meet your test. Fallon will be here momentarily."

Emma leapt up.

"I can't meet Aunt Fallon this way!" She stared at her clothes. "I'm a mess, Uncle Bravy!"

"Don't worry," Bravy laughed. "I'm a wealthy man. I can find you something. I've been preparing for this moment almost my whole life, since I left town. When Morvan and Loth spoke of transferring students, I requested you. Fallon was an obstacle. I couldn't make her postpone her visit. My apologies."

"If you're already wealthy, why is Fallon greedy? She doesn't need much more than money."

"You don't see the point, Emma," Bravy sighed, though not unkindly. "Fallon is the kind of woman who can never get enough. Once she's tasted something sweet, she needs more. It's impossible to be _too_ wealthy when you're with Fallon."

"I see." Emma wasn't sure if she'd enjoy Fallon's company, but Bravy had already emphasized that it couldn't be helped. "So what have you for me to wear?"

"I've plenty of dresses, in fact. All your size, I hope. You are twelve, right?"

"I'm thirteen."

Bravy shrugged. "You're rather slender for thirteen, so the size for age-twelve girls should fit like a glove. My dormitory is number 60. I might be a while."

Emma nodded. She understood.

As Bravy exited Emma heard a peck at the window. She turned, surprised. When her eyes fell on the pigeon, flapping frantically, she laughed and opened the shutters.

"Seth!"

The pigeon soared gratefully inside, morphing into a boy once more.

"Good gracious, I had to wait for Instructor Perez to leave," Seth sighed.

Hearing her Uncle Bravy called Instructor Perez bothered Emma a little, but she let it fly as she waited.

"What have you got there?"

For Seth was withdrawing from his pocket another note. "Sorry; I know you said it wasn't going to be a constant exchange, but your _friend_ bothered to reply. And don't worry about me, I don't mind flying. It's awesome."

Emma had to agree. But she couldn't quite recall what was so great about the sensation you received when in flight. She had forgotten largely everything about birds and flying after the Cast Exam.

"Thank you." She accepted the note, unfolding it twice until letters appeared before her eyes. These were scrawled in a naturally untidy font, but Emma could tell the writer had been trying to make it neat.

Definitely a boy.

The boy was also a student on campus. He might be in the other building, which sat directly below her window. That way, he might be able to monitor her actions. After all, he _had_ seen her reading _Divisadero_, hadn't he?

_Divisadero is a good book. It's one of those few I've really read._

_And no, I'm not going to tell you my name. Who was that in your dorm? _

_SB_

Who was SB?

"Seth, wait here." Emma reached into her bookbag and handed Seth a watermelon lolly.

She then proceeded to write a response.

_SB,_

_I won't ask anymore. I didn't know boys read Divisadero. It's a love story._

_That was Instructor Perez in my dorm._

Emma paused. Should she tell SB about Bravy? If the secret correspondent was a Bloor, or possibly even Morvan or Loth, Seth would know. She continued to write.

_He's really my wealthy Uncle Bravy. His wife Fallon is coming to visit. And now that she discovers I exist, she's going to use me to get what she wants._

_Emma

* * *

_**Jacky: If you figure out who SB is, don't say it in a review. **

**You: Okay. Some people don't know yet.**

**Jacky: Exactly. I hope you like the story, and please give feedback. **

**You: I'm so glad Emma has a rich relative. She deserves one.**

**3 Definitely. : )  
**


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